Pulse
by Huxley123
Summary: Brittany and Santana meet again in strange circumstances after a few years apart after high-school. Rated M for content. Features other characters from the show. Slightly AU, but mostly in character future-fic.
1. Chapter 1

***A/N***

Hey, I'm a fan of Glee and Brittana so thought I'd write a slightly AU/future-fic involving some of the characters (won't tell you who else). Rated M for content, this is certainly a lot more adult and darker than Glee! This story is already written out in my head so there is a larger story arc that has a beginning, middle & end. They'll likely be between 20-30 chapters, I'll try update often, probably weekly - some chapters might have me stuck for a while but like I said I've got the ending covered, it's just a matter of tying details into the plot in a plausible manor. This will mostly be from Santana's POV, but will jump to other character's POV accordingly. Constructive criticism and feedback welcome, other than that comment and enjoy! :)

**Chapter One**

This particular avenue of New York City was archetypal of what one might expect from a relatively rundown, unkempt and all round poorer district of the city. The local schools were floating below national average success rates, there was substance and gun crime on the streets, gang culture divided by alliances or ethnicity and local businesses didn't provide the best of goals for the few young and inspiring minds that were unfortunate enough to be born into this place. There really was no other word for it – but the block was stereotypically 'ghetto'. The young kids who tried to stay out of trouble were often seen or heard street dancing outside the local church (some even attended the newly refurbished dance studio). If there was a common denominator in this tight-knit but divided community it was the overall love of music, specifically soul and hip-hop. Benstone Avenue was in the very outskirts of the city, but as one would drive further into the inner districts it got significantly cleaner and the people were noticeably nicer. Unfortunately for one Latina her job brought her to the roughest part of town, and as such had to settle down here. She had told herself it was temporary. _No such luck. _One year turned into two, and eventually into five. Time can be such a fickle thing, it goes fast when you don't want it to, and slows when you want it to pass with haste. Time was, in this Latina's opinion – the universes way of mocking humanity.

Santana Lopez was nearing the age of 26, although she had to admit she felt 40 at times, it was probably the constant mental fatigue (and sometimes the physical). She was a very attractive woman of African-American and Hispanic descent, although in the cold months when she didn't tan she didn't look inherently different from Caucasians, at least that's what conventional wisdom had told her; personally she thought it was more common ignorance than anything else. Still, her race meant that in this part of town she was physically ambiguous enough to avoid any racial slurs or passing comments as she walked home late from work and normally into rowdy street gangs. Avoiding them was near impossible. This night however she was walking _to _work (twice she had her car stolen whilst at work, so she avoided the unnecessary drive, her flat was literally only a 10 minute walk away, and besides the walking kept her in shape – not that she was out of shape, far from it). No, Santana Lopez was in fact a bit of a health freak, she exercised at the local gym constantly and she walked most places. Her looks after all were important to her job. It was summer and the sun had been scorching the sidewalks all day and almost everyday, tonight as the sunset and as the navy blue sky was scarring its last red and orange remnants of the day; it was a cool but humid air that surrounded the Latina as she walked briskly to work. _Unsociable hours. _She chastised to herself, and then had to give herself a low chuckle at the irony. _Well I do have an unconventionally, unsocial job. _

She smiled sadly and sped up her pace, as she wanted to get there before the night grew darker. Wearing her usual black skirt, tank top, leather jacket and short heels she did attract some attention, the usual wolf whistles. Dressed as she was dressed with her dark smoky eye makeup and her pristine hair – she would be lying to herself if she thought that if she seen a woman lurking about the street corners at night, looking as she looked – she would almost definitely think the same thing. Slut. Or perhaps hooker? _Fuck it. _Santana Lopez was never one for caring about what other people thought, but she was the sort of person who liked to think other people would have a relatively high opinion of her, even though ultimately she didn't care. It was a terribly oxymoronic state of mind, Santana blames her own social awkwardness, or rather social inept of being relatively polite. Santana was sassy, she blamed her DNA, an excuse she knows, but it had served her well, especially in this part of the city – frankly, she took no nonsense from anyone. Not even those closest to her. _Not that there's anyone close to me._ Santana arrived at 'Pulse', a seemingly innocuous bar at the end of the street, the most popular around for miles. The pink neon lights that spelled out 'Pulse' was flickering somewhat and giving off short buzzing noises. From the outside it didn't look like much, but the inside was rather impressive. Santana stood outside not quite ready to start her shift. She needed a smoke. There was a skinny, pale looking man sitting across the street on the benches just outside the park (a park which had been turned into a graffiti hotspot and where locals played basketball). This man was smoking away on a cigar; he had manure colored clothing on including a short jacket, along with matching fedora hat. He looked oddly out of place. Santana skipped on over to the man, sitting down on the bench with her best flirty façade on. She sighed as she took a cigarette out from her small red handbag.

"Got a light?" smirked the Latina.

"Yeah, sure here you go" said the deep-voiced stranger as he held a lighter out toward her and flicked. Santana leaned forward, cigarette in mouth. He had an accent the Latina couldn't quite place.

"Muchas gracias" she mumbled, cigarette moving at the corner of her mouth. She took a drag, inhaled and blew the remaining smoke out from her nostrils. She looked across the street at 'Pulse', hearing the familiar beat of the music from within. She was lost in her thoughts a little; she had forgotten she was with company, when suddenly the stranger asked her a question.

"You bartend or something over there?" he asked, trailing to where her eyes had been fixated.

"Yep." she said simply, not looking away from the bright neon sign. She took one last drag of her cigarette and flicked it away down a nearby street drainpipe. She got to her feet quickly.

"Well, thanks for the light but duty calls" she said motioning her head toward the bar across the street. The stranger simply nodded curtly and tipped his hat slightly before returning to smoking his cigar and apparently staring into space.

Santana swung the double door entrance open and quickly strutted inside. She inhaled the familiar scent of alcohol, smoke and sweat. This was a seedy place, but it was immaculate and clearly some serious money had been pumped into the place, there were fancy bar stools, tables, leather couches, pool tables and a full corner for the DJ. The thing about 'Pulse' is (and the reason for its popularity) was that it was much more than just a bar. It was somewhat of a multi-purpose place; there was a bar at the front that deceptively hid the largest room in the place toward the back. Through the open door entrance came the clubs real attractions. A massive club dance floor was here, with a smaller bar than in the front, some small tables and at each corner of the room there were leather-seated enclosures with frosted-glass panels above them for optimum privacy. In the back center of the room was the stage; raised tall from the floor with a glittery background and black curtains draping the sides. There were several pole dancing platforms near the main stage. There was a small hallway to the right of the stage that led into several rooms; bright red curtains sectioned off these rooms, a gold plaque above each opening spelling out in bold writing 'Private'. Yes, 'Pulse' was where people came to dance, listen to the occasional jazz singer or stand-up comedian, get drunk, play pool, illegally gamble, illegally sell drugs and have "private" time with dancers in the back. It was for all intents and purposes – the perfect gentleman's club. Santana preferred the front; she made her way through a group of people and headed toward the main bar at the front. _Time to clock in._

Brittany Pierce wasn't the brightest bulb in the box (as her mother would say) but she knew when guys had one-track minds. She had recently refurbished an old dance studio in this deprived part of the city to try rejuvenate the area a little, not to mention some of the dancers here were the most naturally gifted she had ever seen – they just needed direction. _A New Direction. _The blonde thought happily. Being a talented dancer herself (now trained in street dancing, jazz and ballet) she wanted to give kids a chance to have opportunities that she herself didn't necessarily get in her high school back in Lima, Ohio. Brittany wasn't your average blonde, yes she somewhat dim but she wasn't stupid. She had always been described as flamboyant or eccentric for her random deadpan comments, but to her she just said what was on her mind, even if she hadn't fully thought the process through. She had always been the same from a young child (and at times still acted like one). Her thinking was so outside the box, and she would also at times take what people said incredibly literally - that when she was younger her parents thought she might have some sort of learning difficulty or mental health problem. She has traits of Asperger's (which is on the autistic spectrum) but the child psychologist at the time wasn't fully committed to "diagnosing" or labeling her as she didn't entirely fit the mold. Happy that she was just healthy and happy her parents never questioned her sanity or her modus operandi. Now, she co-owned this place with her boyfriend Chris, whom she had been seeing on and off since last year. To be honest their relationship wasn't all that serious, she suspected the only reason they went into business together was so he could have sex with her, which he did – and still does. They were more friends than anything though. _Friends with benefits. _Brittany paused for a moment at the long familiar phrase that just entered her mind. Still, she had never really met anyone she would seriously start thinking about dating long-term; tragically the best days of her love life were probably in her high school years. But she didn't want to think about that. Chris was a nice looking guy, well built (was also a dancer) and had perfectly aligned teeth. Brittany thought he looked hot when he danced, outside of that though she found it difficult to see him in any other way but as a friend, nevertheless she continued their arrangement because she felt that it was better than being alone. Besides, he took care of the business, she took care of the only thing in the world that makes her feel alive – dancing, not just dancing, but teaching it to others. It really was her ideal profession; it didn't feel like a job.

"Uhm, Brittany?" came Chris's voice suddenly.

Before she knew it, she was walking through the area's central park; arm's linked with the muscular, fair-haired man. Time was a fickle thing; it seemed to stop sometimes for Brittany and other times it would completely disappear in the bat of an eyelid. Brittany wasn't sure if it was her overactive mind or the universe that was disrupting her sense of time. Brittany suddenly came back from her thoughts to reality. She was wearing a short cream dress with glittery gold patterns and matching cream-colored leg warmers over her arms. Yes, Brittany really was unique in every sense of the word; yet still her aloof style (much like her personality) seemed to always make sense in its own odd way. Much to the annoyance of her friends she could wear almost anything in any combination and still manage to pull a look off. The pair walked under the now dark sky, past a basketball court and came out the opening to a small street with a bar across the road from them. A bright neon pink sign flickered across the street at them. Pulse.

"So since you're new in these parts, the only joint in this dump worth visiting is this place." he said with a smirk, turning to look at the blonde.

"Oh, cool…I guess." said Brittany semi-enthusiastically. She looked up and down the street; it was deserted apart from a man smoking a cigar on a bench just along from them under a streetlamp, his face shadowed by a hat. The place was also rather quiet apart from the distant thud of music. Brittany perked up a little.

"This will be fun." she said wrapping her arm tighter around Chris's.

"It's sort of a…uhm..." he started, not quite knowing how to say it.

"Another strip club?" exasperated Brittany as Chris nodded his head guiltily.

Brittany rolled her eyes, she knew the real reason Chris had always taken her to seedy strip clubs – ever since Brittany had told him she never really seen gender in the world, that she was attracted to people for their looks, traits and personality, he had never let it go. Brittany thought he had always hoped for some sort of sexual escapade; a threesome perhaps. Being open minded was not one and the same as being promiscuous. She scrunched her freckled nose at the thought.

"Come on…." said Chris, a dopey grin on his face. Brittany laughed and followed suit as the pair swung the large black doors into 'Pulse', across the street the middle-aged man mumbled something despairingly to himself.

Brittany needed a drink, but before she could get one from a dark-haired, tanned and lone female bartender (which she thought was odd, considering the place feels packed), she was being dragged away to the back by Chris.

"Real party is in the back." he whispered giddily to her.

_Great. _Brittany entered the main club area and had to admit she was impressed. The heat was unbearable; there was a large crowd in the middle of the floor dancing, packed tightly together like bees in a hive. There was smoking bellowing from every corner of the room, by the smell of it (as they passed one of the hidden booths in the corner of the room) it wasn't just nicotine being smoked in here. The place was incredibly loud with music, cheering, clinking of glasses, cue's hitting pool balls, bellows of laughter and Brittany could have sworn she heard the odd muffled noise of pleasure, and not the kind of pleasure clapping a dog brings you. _More of a cat person anyways. _The main attraction in the room was a group of 4 strippers, each on their respective platforms grinding away to a group of men surrounding every one of them. The women were wearing very thin underwear and no bras at all (their nipples covered by tassels that they would occasionally spin flirtatiously). Brittany smiled at the sight.

"I've brought plenty of cash." said Chris, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Brittany shook her head, giggling slightly as Chris dragged her to the front, near the stage and they both sat down among the rowdy group staring up in awe at a red-haired, pale and rather beautiful dancer. Or _stripper_ to be more precise. Brittany liked to think there was definitely a difference between what she did and what these girls did. Brittany wanted a drink, and if anything she preferred the front room of this place. Somehow, as if hearing her thoughts Chris got up.

"I'll get us a drink" he said.

"Wait, I'll do it I just need-" Brittany begun but was cut-off mid sentence.

"No, I insist, don't you worry your pretty little head" he said mockingly. Brittany rolled her eyes, he probably thought she loved being patronized – despite her intelligence (or lack thereof), she hated it more than anything. Brittany felt a little uncomfortable being left alone in a group of men gawking up and throwing money at the woman now towering above them, shaking her hair wildly. _Lame hairography. _Suddenly the places dim lights got even lower and the music changed (now playing a smooth RnB instrumental song with a jazz kick). Even though Brittany didn't - the crowd seemed to know what was happening because suddenly as the strippers on their poles left their mini-stages and went onto the main stage, most of the club seemed to scuttle to the front or back to their tables eagerly. A woman's hand came out from the black stage curtains and then flipped part of the material back fast and nonchalantly to reveal herself. Brittany momentarily thought it reminded her of a part in the Broadway musical 'Chicago'.

The crowds wolf whistled and were already waving a sea of money at the woman, as if somehow shaking their currency would make her do something different or faster. The woman was wearing more clothes than the rest of the dancers Brittany noticed as they all started out a rather elaborate yet intrinsic dance routine in time to the slow beat. The dark woman was wearing a short black lace top that looked more like a bra and short leather hot pants, the intertwining detail in her outfit (along with other factors) made her stand out, she was definitely the main attraction. Brittany thought she was strangely beautiful, which was odd because the woman had an incredible body but the stranger wore a mask – Brittany wasn't the type to just ogle strangers bodies. The eagle-face shaped mask was covering most of her upper face, it was black and the sparkling detail on it mirrored that on the rest of her outfit. There were small holes for the woman's dark eyes. Brittany felt incredibly turned on by this stranger, which is again so unlike her. _Maybe it's just the mystery. _This woman was for some reason or another intriguing, and by the amount of clapping and money, Brittany wasn't the only one who thought so. The Queen bee, in this hive of buzzing wasps. She had dark long hair and muscular arms, that were now reaching out and grabbing her fellow dancers in an aggressive commanding way; forcing them down to the floor where they continued to grind, almost into begging positions, for a moment they looked like slaves begging their master not so much for permission, but for approval. The dark woman merely raised her head up slightly her eyes scanning the audience; hand on hips, tongue rolling ever so slightly on her upper lip. The slow beat did nothing to pace Brittany's heart, nor the throbbing that was now hammering out its own beat between her legs. She felt incredibly silly, this was the exact reaction that these types of seedy places feed and profit from. There was nothing about this show that was different than all the others she had occasionally been too. In her profession she had seen a lot of suggestive and promiscuous dancing, but for some reason this one had completely entranced her.

She looked back quickly to see if Chris had even brought her a drink, he was nowhere to be seen. She frowned. _What was taking him so long? _She glanced about pointlessly looking for him, as if somehow he would save her from this spell that she'd been under. Brittany quickly looked back at the dark Queen now on stage, the woman was slowly walking closer to her, Brittany shifted in her seat until she realized that the woman was actually heading toward the microphone in the center front of the stage, that the blonde had only just realized was even there. This woman, Brittany thought, had natural stage presence – she couldn't help but admire and perhaps feel a little jealous of the stranger's ability. The crowd silenced so abruptly that Brittany had to smile in amazement at the complete dominance this woman had over the crowds attention, even when hazed with alcohol and drugs – it seemed that their attention would not falter and appeared to be ready to hang onto this woman's every word as if they were law. The woman rolled her right shoulder and grabbed the mic, then in a low and husky voice asked the crowd a question:

"Which one of you…" she said pointing around the front to nobody in particular. Brittany held her breath when the stranger's finger momentarily went in her direction.

"-would like to spend 10 minutes with moi, in one of our private rooms in the back, mhmm?" she asked low and raspingly. The crowd erupted into chants of 'me'. The woman gave a rather devilish laugh and Brittany felt her head spin. The noise in the room became muffled and all Brittany could hear was the hammering of her own heart, not so much just in excitement but also now in shock. _That voice. That raspy voice. _She had only ever heard one voice ever like it. _It can't be. _She shook her head, which was now throbbing. Maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her, maybe because she had fleetingly, very fleetingly thought about that person earlier in the day. _Friends with benefits. _As if to solidify her growing hunch, she mumbled to a roaring crowd uncertainly:

"S-San…Santana?"


	2. Chapter 2

Brittany's outburst fell on deaf ears, the crowd was too busy jumping and yelling at their queen to pick them, and some had even resorted to throwing lots of money onto the stage in sheer desperation. Brittany was lost in a sea of thoughts. She was positive it was _her_. Brittany's first friend, first crush and first love – but that felt like a lifetime ago. In all honesty Brittany thought about her high school days a lot, maybe even on a daily basis, it was perhaps because her life had become so monotonous lately – or maybe there was another reason.

The reality of the situation suddenly hut Brittany like a ton of bricks. Through the giddy excitement, arousal and shock she began to feel another feeling – Santana was working in _this_ place, and _this_ was her job? Brittany's heart panged in sadness and even a little in disappointment, she always thought the Latina was better than this. Whatever the reason however, here stood Santana Lopez, she was certain of it – and now that she had not only seen her first love again but a link to her childhood, a link to a happier and more exciting time, she decided then that she simply must see her again, talk to her.

Brittany blinked and before she knew it Santana was leading a slightly overweight man with a suit on back off-stage by dragging him flirtatiously by the tie. Some of the crowd was booing; others were patting the man on the back as they headed toward the curtained VIP section.

Brittany shot up from her seat, uncertain about what she was even doing or what she'd even say but nevertheless started shoving her way through the crowd, heading toward the VIP section. The rowdy crowd had now been settled somewhat as the usual strippers resumed their show and the normal music began to play. As if a gift from the universe the lone bouncer guarding the area was now hurtling toward the front pub at the sudden sound of a glass shattering and raised voices emanating from there. This was her chance, maybe her only chance to even see the Latina, she snuck into the narrow hallway and was met with various sectioned off rooms via red curtains. _This place is like a maze._

All of these were VIP private rooms; it was hard to hear anything that was going on behind the veils as the loud music was being pumped through here via large bass speakers on the walls. Brittany was sure that a gunshot could be fired or something equally as loud could happen back here and nobody would hear. It was impossible to check all of these enclosures, and quite frankly Brittany was scared to peek into one as to what she might see. She looked down the very far end of the hallway and suddenly felt her heartbeat quicken. The VIP room at the very end of the hall didn't have red curtains like the rest – but black. Black as the main stage curtains, black as the Latina's hair, black as her whole stage outfit. That had to be her section, her lair. With a determination unlike any she possessed before - she strutted quickly to the end of the hallway and slinked through the gap in the curtains, making sure to close them behind her.

She entered a small private booth that had a small table and an L-shaped leather seating in the corner, it reminded Brittany of a 50's style diner – minus the class. The room had blood red walls with various large advertisements posters, most of them for pornographic movies. She looked to her left and there the Latina was, straddling the man and whispering something in his ear. They hadn't even noticed the blonde enter. Brittany suddenly felt nauseous with nerves, she had been in such a rush to get here that she didn't think of what she would say once she did. She cleared her throat and spoke.

"Uhm…hello?" she said, her voice suddenly faltering.

The Latina began speaking, as she climbed out from the mans grip and turned around to face whoever had gatecrashed their rendezvous.

"Listen honey, this is a restricted area – only VIP's are allowed back here, besides-" she begun, but was immediately silenced for reasons unbeknown to one out of the three people in the room.

Brittany simply stared at Santana, the room was dim and it was hard to see her eyes behind that black mask, but there was no mistaking the flickering look of shock from the Latina's eyes – that she, Brittany, was now on the receiving end of. The rest of Santana's face (from what she could see of it) remained impassive however. Time suddenly seemed to pass slowly again. Brittany was so shocked it was actually Santana, she had half-hoped she would come back here and it would have just been a similar looking woman, and even though half her face was concealed, it was the dark glimmering eyes that confirmed the woman's identity. _Say something. Anything._

"So…I guess it's kinda funny Rachel was right…" Brittany said giving a low laugh, suddenly looking to the floor quickly, but bringing her eyes back up for the response.

"I…have no idea what you're talking about" said the Latina blankly, folding her arms.

"_You know. _Rachel? Rachel Berry?" said Brittany shrugging one of her shoulders, as if this would be a sufficient enough explanation.

Santana cocked her head to the side ever so slightly, and even though Brittany could barely see the woman's eyebrows, she could tell she was frowning; most likely half in confusion and half in annoyance. Brittany took a step forward closer to the Latina, now fully committing herself to this awkward situation.

"Remember that year in high school? She said…she said that the only job you would have is working on a pole" said Brittany, awkwardly reiterating the words. _Real smooth Brittany, remind her of a past insult. _

Santana didn't say anything.

There was a loud bellowing 'hmrph' that came from the corner of the room, Brittany had only just realized the overweight, and rather ugly man was still there. He spoke suddenly, with a typically Chicago accent.

"Well ladies as interesting as this is, I'm going to leave if this is all a paying customer gets" said the man getting up to leave. Brittany noticed Santana suddenly looked startled; Santana went over and held her hand over the mans arm, motioning for him to sit back down. Brittany could see Santana whisper something in his ear, but Brittany couldn't make out what was being said. The man shook his head and tried to squeeze by the table and the Latina.

"Nope, afraid you've completely killed the mood, here's me thinkin' that this would be an easy jack off" he said.

Santana as a last resort blocked his way placed her hand on the mans chest, stroking up and down with her hand flirtatiously. Brittany scrunched her nose. For some reason Santana didn't want this customer to leave. _Did she really need the money that badly? _That didn't make much sense to Brittany though; she practically had a sea of money thrown at her whilst she was on stage. For some bizarre reason Brittany suddenly had an idea, she was of course excited by the looming prospect, but more than that, if it meant she'd get to spend just a little more time with Santana and find out what the hell was going on – she'd have to do it now or never.

"You can give me a lap dance instead," Brittany stated bluntly.

The stranger's eye's widened and a wide smirk appeared on his face as he sat back down to his seat in the corner.

"Now _this_, I have to see"

Santana turned slowly to the blonde. It was hard to read her face with the mask on. From what Brittany remembers she was a hard enough person to read with no mask on at all. Santana moved toward Brittany, rolling her right shoulder in a circular motion – for a minute Brittany thought she was readying herself to punch the blonde into oblivion. Santana instead grasped Brittany's wrist firmly and dragged her to the opposite end of the leather seating, casually throwing the blonde down onto it. Brittany gulped looking up at the Latina, trying to gauge her, a look, a smile – anything. But nothing came. The mask was looking back down at her, for a moment the Latina looked like a dark crow, circling its prey.

"Fine" said Santana shortly, not taking her eyes off Brittany. The man gave an excited squeal in the corner.

Santana with a sudden strength launched herself up to stand on the leather seating, her heels digging in at the fabric and spreading her legs so that she had one on either side of Brittany's thighs. She had launched herself up so fast Brittany barely had a second to register that Santana's crotch was mere inches from her face. She began gyrating her hips in small circular thrusting motions into the blondes face. Brittany suddenly lost the ability to breathe and she found herself trying to tear her eyes away from the Latina's hips. She raised her head slowly and looked up at the Latina's body dancing above her, her breasts pumping in and out, her taut stomach muscles rippling, Brittany could have swore the Latina had toned-up, she didn't recall the Latina being in this good a shape when they were younger – which was saying something.

Brittany's pulse began to quicken again, as did the throb between her legs. It was strange, she suddenly wanted to do things to Santana that they both once did, once upon a time – it was almost as if nothing had changed at all. Untrue of course, everything has changed. Without realizing it, the blonde reached out and clasped both hands on the area behind the Latina's knees and slowly started trailing her palms up the back of the Latina's thighs, she felt Santana's muscles clench at the sensation.

Brittany with a smirk on her face, looked up past the mask slits and into the dark eyes, searching. Her own eyelids felt heavy, as she looked up into brown with a deep mixture of lust and empathy. If possible she was even more entranced than she was when she seen her on stage. Santana grabbed both of her hands and flung them back down roughly, then in one quick motion bent down so she was straddling Brittany and resumed her gyrating hip movements, her crotch dancing over the blondes at a mellow pace. Brittany suddenly felt her hands get clammy. _Fuck._

"No touching policy" said the Latina, barely a whisper.

Brittany gave a low throaty chuckle, the Latina's delayed reaction to her touch was both endearing and a turn on. Their faces now inches apart, Brittany wanted to see her face again, she was tempted to take off the mask (although she feared if she tore it off, she wouldn't be able to stop till the Latina was completely removed of all garments). Brittany glanced momentarily to the side and saw that the man was now unzipping his pants and began to masturbate. Brittany found it both funny and creepy, but not even that could ruin this moment for her. She looked back and found herself lost in those eyes again, occasionally looking down at her breasts and found her self gasp when the Latina's gyrating crotch skimmed the lower part of the blondes stomach. Santana seemed to notice too because she paused momentarily before pulling her distance back a bit.

"Come on ladies, give me more here otherwise I'm leaving" said the man mockingly, his wrist still working away furiously.

Brittany found herself looking to Santana's lips. _Those lips._ They looked delicious and puckered. Almost as if Santana had read her mind (or rather, maybe she just followed her gaze) Santana put her arms around Brittany's neck. A tingling sensation shot down Brittany's spine. How did she still have an effect on her? _After all this time_. Feeling suddenly disarmed she leaned her head in closer, uncertain. The Latina seemed to have the same trepidations as she slowly closed the gap, and pulled the blondes head closer to her by using the grip she had on the back of the blondes neck.

Eye's locked, their lips ghosted over each other's, treading carefully. It was familiar, curious and awkward at the same time. Brittany let out an involuntary moan. Santana pressed her lips against Brittany's in response. Brittany's head spun, her flesh felt so good to feel again, it was just as she remembered. Her heart was hammering against her ribcage, she was sure the Latina could hear. She was throbbing and suddenly a lot more wet in-between her burning thighs where Santana was perched. _This can't be happening. _They had only just met again.

Brittany wanted nothing more than to shove her tongue down the Latina's throat, but thought better of it; instead she sucked gently on her lower lip and continued to gently nudge Santana's lips bashfully with her own. The man in the corner groaned loudly, he had clearly just reached his 'peak'. _Eww. _

Santana suddenly unclasped her arms from around the blonde's neck, got up and headed toward the curtained entrance and began pacing, occasionally peeking out. Brittany suddenly missed her warmth. Brittany watched her every move, but Santana didn't look back at her. The man had now zipped his pants back up and threw a large roll of money onto the small table; it was the most money Brittany had ever seen in her life.

"You get the extra amount, for your silence of course" said the man now standing in front of Santana. Brittany watched as she nodded once in reply.

"Till next time sweet cheeks" he said as he slapped Santana's ass and left the booth with a grim chuckle.

Santana's head popped out the curtains and seemed to watch the man leave till he was out of earshot. Brittany sat staring at the Latina from behind; she suddenly wished she had money with her, though she got the feeling it wouldn't have made a difference as Santana came back in and spun around to Brittany.

"Britt, what the fuck are you even doing here!" she said, her voice laced with bother.

Brittany's heart skipped a beat. She couldn't help but grin, which seemed to infuriate the brunette more.

"What's so funny? I'm serious – this place is dangerous, you shouldn't have come here…and you certainly shouldn't have followed me." she said darkly, breaking eye contact and glancing away to the wall.

She put one hand on her waist, fingertips tapping her hips speedily. She seemed genuinely irked that Brittany was here, but she also seemed something else – a feeling the blonde couldn't quite put her finger on. Brittany shook her head.

"It's just that…y'know, you called me Britt" said the blonde sheepishly, standing up and twirling her fingers.

Santana hunched her shoulders up as if to say '_and your point is?'_

Brittany gave a low laugh.

"It's just that, well, nobody ever calls be Britt – at least…not anymore, in fact I think it was only ever you" said Brittany simply.

She felt ridiculous for admitting this little fact to Santana, it wasn't really all that interesting or relevant, but her heart did a summersault when she heard the name come from Santana's lips – she hadn't been called that in so long. Santana seemed disinterested.

"Oh…" she said, still looking around the room and not directly at the blonde.

They fell into an awkward silence. Brittany walked up to Santana, figuring it was the only way she could get her attention. Suddenly feeling bold she reached out and grasped the edges of the plastic mask that had been bothering her for so long. Santana suddenly looked to Brittany and brought both her hands around Brittany's wrists, as if to prevent her from taking it off. They stared at each other for a moment. Santana didn't object however when Brittany resumed to take off the mask, slowly bringing it off and up over the Latina's head. Brittany's breathing hitched. She looked exactly the same; as a flood of memories came rushing back to her, clear as day. Her mouth, nose, slight constant frown crease – everything. If anything she looked younger. Her dark smoky makeup making her chocolate colored eyes look even deeper, and equally as enigmatic.

"Hi…" said Santana, her eyes widening slightly. Even though her lips were pursed, Brittany could tell she was fighting back a smile - it was the glimmer in her eyes.

"Hi…" chirped back Brittany, before grinning again and throwing the mask onto the table near the roll of money.

"Thanks for playing along…earlier" said the Latina awkwardly as she scratched the back of her neck, once again averting her gaze. This comment was too cute for the blonde to let slide.

"Who says I was '_playing_' along?"

They both stared at each other and Brittany could hardly believe she was being this forward, she was the forward type but it felt unwarranted in her current situation, but she couldn't help herself. It really was Santana Lopez standing in front of her.

Before either of them could say anything, a loud chapping noise came from somewhere in the room.

Brittany scrunched her nose and looked at the veiled doorway. _You can't knock on a curtain like a door._ Santana suddenly went over to the far wall and put her hand around the back of one of the pornographic poster frames Brittany had noticed earlier. Snapping it forward she swung at the frame and amazingly it opened like a door. Brittany raised her eyebrows – it was a doorway, with curtains and a whole other hallway behind it. She was amazed; it was like something out of a Disney movie. A tall African-American man ducked his head in; he was almost too tall for the passageway he was standing in. He was a nice looking, young man with large muscular arms, black hair that had been given a buzz cut – he was wearing dark pants and a grey t-shirt under a short black jacket. Brittany didn't know wither to be scared or confused – she was alternating between the two. She shifted her feet looking from the back of Santana's head to the man now leering in on them, hoping for some sort of explanation – she already had a never-ending list of questions she wanted to ask Santana, she didn't need to add more to it.

"You ready, Lopez?" came the stranger's deep voice.

"Mhmm-mhm" confirmed Santana.

Brittany was well and truly lost, and not even in her usual way – she was pretty sure it was OK for her to be confused right now. The mans eyes darted to Brittany, then back to Santana.

"Who's she?" he asked.

Santana shook her head in a way that indicated she would explain later.

"But, she'll have to come with us-"

"You sure?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at the blonde as if she couldn't hear them.

"She's seen too much…plus – she knows who I am" the Latina said as she grabbed a small rucksack the stranger had just thrown to her, she stuffed the mask and money into a small pocket in the front.

"I see" he responded, his voice traced in intrigue.

Brittany kept quiet hoping that the situation would become abundantly clear to her anytime soon. As cliché as it sounded and despite the years apart, she trusted Santana with her life – so if she had to go somewhere with this man (maybe he was a club bouncer?), she would go with him no questions asked. Santana withdrew clothes from the backpack and put them on over her barely existent current outfit. She was now wearing skinny jeans, tank top and a leather jacket. Brittany smiled at how familiar she suddenly looked. Santana ran a palm through her hair and looked back at Brittany. She felt her body pulse again; the Latina was so effortlessly sexy – but also mysterious. She shook her thoughts and listened carefully, she figured she needed the extra concentration for anything that was about to be said.

"Come on, I live near here, you can come back to my place – I'll explain later, I just need you to tag along" said Santana, cool and collected as ever – as if she had been in this situation with Brittany a hundred times before.

Brittany's throat felt dry as she clenched the edge of her dress with both her fists, nodding.

"OK, uh…lead the way I guess"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey guys, thanks so much for the reviews lol, I just have to quickly say that this chapter is a hell of a lot longer than the previous but doesn't do a whole lot in terms of the main plot so I do apologize, it's only because its still from Brittany's POV. I didn't intend for this chapter to go at such a slow pace, but decided to flesh it out a bit more as this will probably be the last chapter for a long while that's from Brittany's POV. We will return to Santana's next chapter and things will hopefully begin to make a lot more sense and things will be answered. Enjoy, keep the comments coming. :)**

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Brittany watched as Santana, rucksack slung over her shoulder, closed the door behind them and allowed the tall man to lead the way. Brittany turned and faced forwards. They were standing in an impossibly narrow hallway; it was so narrow that two people could barely walk down it at the same time. It had the same blood red walls as the VIP section; it was also lit just as dimly. At the very end of the corridor there was an emergency fire exit door. The narrow passageway was cluttered with random props, mics, boxes, amplifiers and even a tattered looking mannequin. The man walked on without waiting for them stepping over the littered objects, Santana eventually followed suit with Brittany trailing just to her side. The man looked back at them and sped up faster toward the door. Brittany got the feeling that he did so deliberately to leave them alone, perhaps figuring they needed to talk and that he had interrupted a conversation or moment they were having in the private booth before. _Which was perfectly true._

They didn't say a word though; all that could be heard was the click clocking of their shoes that reverberated against the enclosed walls. Brittany had never been one for feeling claustrophobic but the air in here felt very close and heavy. They picked up their pace. Santana pressed her own back to the wall as they both simultaneously stepped over the amp, but Brittany stumbled into the mannequin. _Damn heels. _She turned to face Santana but the mannequin, still bopping back and forth from the impact, came toppling toward her from behind – she jumped forward to avoid it, but it was too late, the mannequins head struck the back of her own and fell with a thud to the floor. The noise echoed around them.

"Ouch!" Brittany whined closing her eyes and rubbing the back of her head.

Thanks to her awful maneuvering skills she was now pressed up against the Latina. Brittany opened her eyes to find that she had a small grin on her face and was (rather badly) trying to suppress a low snigger. Brittany opened her mouth and slapped the arm of her leather jacket playfully.

"Shut up!"

Santana shrugged defiantly. Brittany felt the grin on her own face slowly drop as she just realized how close they were standing. Santana seemed to come to the same realization as her smile faded too. Brittany looked down briefly, their breasts were now pressed against each other's, and heaving slightly. They both locked eyes for a moment. Brittany felt the familiar tingling sensation coarse throughout her body. All too suddenly it was gone as the slightly smaller woman squeezed by her and headed toward the exit, her left hand suddenly clasped over her right shoulder and rolling it in a circular motion as she stepped outside.

Brittany frowned watching her exit the hallway, she had only just been reunited with Santana but she didn't recall the Latina ever having that habit, yet tonight alone she had done it several times already. She noticed it briefly when she was first on stage, and at the time Brittany didn't even know it was Santana. Brittany tried to push the thought to the back of her mind; it was just another thing she was curious about in the long list of things she was about Santana. _I'll have to interrogate her later._

Brittany prized herself in noticing little mannerisms about people; she was such a people person that she often scared her friends at how well she knew them. She loved meeting new people and she loved people watching, especially in the city. She could often tell when people were uncomfortable or lying, it was just a feeling the blonde got by observing their behavior. Her hunches weren't _always _right but most of the time they were spot on. It was sort of a deserved gift if she were honest with herself, because what she lacked in intelligence she made up for with sheer intuition.

Brittany went through the fire exit door and shut it behind her, the cool night air hitting her – a welcome change from the sweaty atmosphere inside. They were now in a back alleyway behind the club; it was dark, dingy and smelled of garbage and urine. Santana and the man that came to get them clearly stopped whatever conversation they were having and turned to the blonde.

"Brit, this is Kingsley," she said nodding her head toward the man and taking a mobile phone out of her pocket.

He seemed like a strange man, young but carried an air of maturity, the type of person that would command respect and always be listened to in conversation. Brittany thought momentarily there was something very teacher-ish about him.

"Hi, I'm Brittany" the blonde said simply as Kingsley smiled politely but quickly turned to Santana.

"Expendable?"

Santana snapped her head up from her phone, shaking her head profusely at him.

"Liability?"

Brittany looked to Santana who looked quickly back before deterring her gaze. The Latina shrugged her shoulders indifferently.

"No…uh…" she hesitated, clearly trying to find appropriate wording.

Brittany suddenly felt like the big white elephant in the room. _Or the alley._

"Ella un viejo amigo, que no será un problema." Santana continued quickly, looking back down at her phone again.

"Really?" asked Kingsley, in a tone that suggested he didn't quite believe whatever the Latina had just said.

"además de...ella no es el más inteligente..." said Santana, not looking at the blonde but instead pressing buttons on her phone furiously.

"I see." he said glancing at Brittany.

Brittany's heartbeat raced, she always loved hearing Santana speak Spanish – but then a horrible feeling washed over her. They were obviously talking about her, and Santana evidently felt uncomfortable around Brittany to speak freely in front of her. The blonde suddenly felt embarrassed but angry with her old friend, for yet again they were talking about her as if she wasn't there. As if sensing her unease, Santana looked over to her.

"Don't sweat it Britt, I'll explain once we get home" she said holding her hand up apologetically to her. There was a tone of sincerity laced in her words.

This calmed Brittany considerably; she gave a small thankful smile in return. To her surprise the Latina smiled back. Brittany felt her cheeks burn red. _Stop it. This is silly. She's obviously not thinking about what you are. _Brittany sighed.

"Where is the boy?" bellowed Kingsley suddenly, almost as if he did not approve of the way Santana was smiling idly at Brittany and wished to change the subject. Brittany thought it was funny he called somebody else a boy, considering he himself looked late-twenties at the very oldest. _Unless we're waiting on an actual boy. _Brittany pushed the ridiculous thought from her head before it traveled down to escape from her mouth.

"Just texted him, y'know he's always running late…" sighed Santana rolling her eyes. She checked her phone once more.

"It's almost 2:00am, I needs to get my sleep on…" groaned Santana, fighting back a yawn.

Brittany grumbled looking downwards. _She has sleep on her mind? There go my plans. _

"Don't you fret my little Chica" came a charismatic voice from the far end of the alley, a young man was now jogging toward them.

He had jeans and a red t-shirt on, his boots splatting against damp patches on the gravelly earth. He came into view as he slowed his jog into a swagger, passing Brittany – when he suddenly stopped and did a double-take. Brittany leaped back in sheer shock, for the second time tonight she had been completely taken aback by a blast from the past.

"B-Brittany?" he said grinning disbelievingly at her.

"P-P-Puck?" she said, finding herself giggling as he ran toward her, picked her up into a hug and began spinning her around. She couldn't stop laughing. She found it strange to see him Mohawk-less.

Santana cleared her throat loudly.

"Puck, puts my girl down and lets come talk business, we don't have all night" said Santana irritated, frowning at him and then at her phone, presumably checking the time.

He did as he was told and plumped the blonde back down. Brittany's heart just did another flip-flop. _Did she just call me 'her girl'?_ Brittany held back a squeal and tried to appear nonchalant, besides it didn't look like the Latina thought anything of it.

The moonlight now hut Noah Puckerman as he walked toward Santana, where Brittany finally got a good look at him. She suddenly felt uncomfortable and gloomy. Whilst the few short years had barely touched Santana, sadly the same could not be said for Puck. He had a shaven head; his face was full of stubble like he hadn't shaved in weeks. He looked paler than Brittany had ever seen him; his eyes were ever so slightly bloodshot and dark bags drooped beneath them. He even had a yellow tinge around his eyes, which made him look ill. Not to mention that whilst he still had his infamous Puckerman arm "guns", he had clearly gained some unhealthy weight – Brittany could see it on his stomach and around his face. It was uncharacteristic of him; Brittany wondered how he had been and what he was up to these days. She considered asking, but decided against it – her brain could only take in so much information at the moment, and she was already at a loss as to what exactly was happening.

She watched as Puckerman withdrew a PDA from his pocket and gave it to Kingsley, along with a sheet of paper.

"I wrote the numbers on there bro" he said scratching his face looking around anxiously. Kingsley nodded approvingly.

"Now, where's my cut?" Puck asked fretfully.

"Relax Jew-bro, right here" said Santana sarcastically as she dropped the backpack, withdrew the entire roll of money she had gotten earlier and threw it casually to Puck.

His eyes widened, as did Brittany's. _She was giving him all that? What exactly did he even do? _Brittany began to think that maybe they were all involved in something illegal. She suddenly felt uneasy. Again miraculously, as if sensing Brittany's sudden shift in mood, Santana spoke to her.

"Chillax, it's all above board" she said, giving a short smirk to Brittany.

Brittany nodded back although wasn't sure if her words emitted the same level of truth as before. _Can she actually read my mind or am I saying things out loud again?_

"Well I better get back to my girl, till next time" Puck said to Santana. He then pointed both his index fingers to Brittany, grinning once more.

"You too hot stuff"

"Yeah…it was totally awesome seeing you again Puck" Brittany managed to smile back, giving him a short wave.

With that he stuffed the money in his back jean pocket, nodded his head to Kingsley, spun around and jogged away up the alley and around the corner out of sight.

"I'll come by yours tomorrow for…" said Kingsley trailing his words, holding up the PDA as if it would clarify his meaning.

"Sure, see you later" said Santana glancing momentarily to the side as she picked up the rucksack and fixed her hair, she sounded like she didn't care much.

With that Kingsley exited the alleyway via the same route Puck took, instead heading around the opposite corner and out of sight. Brittany once again balled up the edge of her dress with her fists, she was finally alone with the Latina – except now even more confused than she was before. Brittany shivered; the night air was beginning to get cold.

"C'mon I'm tired…" sighed Santana solemnly as she began walking out the alleyway not looking back at Brittany, almost as if expecting the blonde to tag along behind her heels willingly, like old times, like a docile pup it's master. The blonde did.

They came into an avenue she recognized. Brittany only lived a few streets away (except in the opposite direction across from the park). She moved to this area several weeks ago as she finally saved enough money to buy and renovate the local dance studio. The classes became instantly popular – she did everything from yoga, to jazzercise and even ballet. She didn't feel like telling Santana this, if she were to say that she lived close by – the Latina might just offer to walk her home instead, and Brittany desperately wanted to go to Santana's place tonight. She got the sinking feeling that they might not see each other a lot after tonight, even though apparently they were now in the same neighborhood.

They both began to walk down the deserted street, they were silent for the first five minutes or so listening to the faint thud of the club's music play, they turned into another street and could no longer hear it, Brittany sped up to keep up with Santana. Now all the noise they had for company was the distant rumble of cars heading toward the inner city and the occasional dog barking or street lamp flickering. Brittany suddenly skipped around Santana and went to walk on her other side. Santana glanced sideways at her and raised an eyebrow.

"Uh…OK…what was that about?" she asked sounding perplexed but amused.

"Sorry I just forgot, you're like totally left handed so…I know you hate people walking on your right-hand side" said Brittany, looking sideways at her coyly.

Santana raised both her eyebrows and smiled slightly, nodding her head as if impressed.

"Yeah, it's true, not entirely sure why though…"

"I think it's cute, I mean, you're a lefty so…you might get disorientated walking next to a righty" Brittany mumbled.

Brittany mentally slapped herself. _Words Brittany. Never your strong suit. This is why you should pause before speaking each syllable._

Santana merely chortled lowly, shaking her head at the ground but didn't say anything. Brittany had almost forgotten how she could be herself around Santana and not have her Brittany-isms thrown back at her as ammunition, which was great in the blondes mind, especially as Santana had always been a woman with plenty of verbal ammunition, but it was always aimed at other people – a personality defect that the blonde tried and failed miserably of erasing. Brittany shuddered as a large gust of wind went by, hitching her breathing. Santana seemed to notice because before the blonde could refuse – the Latina had taken off her leather jacket and wrapped it over the blonde's shoulders, her fingertips briefly grazing the slightly taller woman's shoulders. Brittany now shuddered for an entirely different reason.

"Thanks, but now you're cold" said Brittany dopily, putting her arms through the jacket.

"I'm fine," snapped Santana rather unconvincingly, as she clenched her upper body muscles and tucked her hands into her jean pockets. Brittany rolled her eyes.

"You're just as stubborn as ever" said Brittany resentfully, but nudged the Latina's arm with her own playfully. Santana simply shrugged, eyes focused ahead of them. Brittany grabbed the collar of the leather jacket Santana had given to her and subconsciously inhaled, it smelled faintly of smoke and coconuts. _Some things never change. _

"My flat is at the very end of this street" Santana stated nodding forwards, rolling her shoulder blade once more.

"OK…cool" said Brittany slowly, suddenly feeling a little nervous.

There was nothing integrally notable about the block of flats Santana lived in. It was neither nice nor dingy, the building was rather plain and Brittany could have passed this building a hundred times and not taken any notice of it. Maybe she had already passed it. They both silently made their way to the second floor and Santana was already unlocking her front door, she lived in number '24'.

Santana shut the door behind them and walked into the living room enclosure, exhaling loudly as she did. She seemed relieved to be home. Brittany looked around, slightly stunned. The flat was very nice, but that wasn't what made the blonde feel a little disconcerted, she looked around once more searching for something tangible, but there seemed to be genuinely nothing. The place had gorgeous cream walls, leather seating, a large flat-screen TV on the wall (at least 50 inches), a large grey shabby rug, various bookshelves and a small coffee table in the center. Yet Brittany couldn't quite shake the feeling that it looked more like a show-home than somebody's _actual _home. There was no mess, no dust, the books on the bookshelf were aligned perfectly, no photo frames or art or empty beer cans – nothing. It sounded harsh in her own mind, but Santana's home was just a room, a place – there were no signs of the Latina's personality anywhere, Brittany wondered if she even lived here at all. She suddenly felt a little sad. Santana switched on the massive TV and it automatically flickered on to the 24-hour news channel, the sound blared in the early morning silence - the news reporter was talking away, something about the city's senate race and an upcoming weather report. Santana rolled her eyes as she turned it down low so it could barely be heard before turning to the blonde who was standing idly by the door.

"Why am I here?" asked Brittany, preempting her.

"Uh…for your own safety, can't have you going home by yourself – especially round these parts, at this time" said Santana rather tentatively, glancing momentarily out the small window down to the street.

"Actually I don't live that far from here" stated Brittany in a matter-of-fact way, folding her arms. Suddenly feeling stupid and annoyed she came along.

"You don't?" was the Latina's response, her face contorted in candid surprise. "I see…" she said as she began walking up and down the living room, looking lost in thought.

"I wasn't alone either, I was with my boyf-" began the blonde, suddenly stopping mid-sentence. _Chris! _She had completely forgotten. She felt suddenly guilty and had hoped he wouldn't wait up worrying about her and where she was. Santana stopped pacing and looked across the room at her. Brittany held her breath in mild concentration trying to read the dark eyes gazing over her way. At the mention of Brittany not being alone, she stared trying to gauge what Santana's eyes were saying about this fact. Jealousy, hurt, intrigue, indifference? Their eyes locked for a brief moment. Brittany changed her stance and sighed, whipping off Santana's jacket in defeat – she simply could not tell. Santana dropped her gaze and continued to pace, stretching and yawning as she did.

"Santana?"

"Yeah?" she replied distractedly coming to a halt.

"Before we go to bed…" she started, then suddenly blushed. "I mean to sleep…" she paraphrased quickly, cracking her finger knuckles. _Words, Brittany._

She looked from the wooden floor up to the Latina who was now standing; hand on hip looking at her. The tanned woman tilted her head forwards slightly displaying mild intrigue as to what Brittany was about to say. She didn't seem to pick up on the blonde's fraudulent slip, or to be more accurate – she probably did but chose to ignore it.

"I have so many things I wanna ask you" continued the blonde, slowly walking toward the Latina.

"I know Brit, I just don't know if I'm up to answering them tonight…" said Santana, her gaze darting between Brittany's eyes and the feet slinking closer to her.

"I get ten" said Brittany simply.

"Uh…" the other began, her eyes narrowing seemingly trying to decipher what Brittany had meant.

"We both get ten, ten questions that we get to ask – aaaaand the other must answer with complete and total honesty" said Brittany simply, waving out her hands making an 'all cards on the table' motion.

To her surprise the Latina smirked at her suggestion.

"OK…but on one condition" she said subtly. Brittany arched her eyebrows in reply.

"You only get to ask _one_ tonight" said Santana, lifting her index finger as she said 'one' and tapped it against the blondes arm.

Brittany grinned and nodded enthusiastically in reply. _One question. _She truly didn't even know where to begin. _Have you missed me? Why are you working as a stripper? Why haven't you aged? _Brittany snickered at her thoughts. Part of her wanted to ask what had become of her once they parted, but she shook that particular thought from her head – she didn't like thinking about that time a few years ago. She also knew how vindictively smart the Latina could be, so she didn't want to ask a question that could be given an ambiguous answer but still be abiding by the only rule of their agreement – that it be truthful. She suddenly wished she set up more ground rules. The Latina seemed to see the cogs turning in Brittany's head.

"Don't brain hemorrhage on me, go through to my room, I'm sure there's a t-shirt or pajamas you can wear for tonight…I'll go pour us a small glass of wine" she said huskily, cocking her head mischievously.

She pointed down the hall to indicate where her bedroom was to Brittany, before departing to the kitchen that was in a small room by the living room. Brittany went down the hall and entered. She grinned happily. _This is more like it. _The room was similar to what she remembered Santana's old bedroom to be like in her parent's house back in Ohio. Black walls decorated with posters, various ornaments around and even a neat lava lamp glowing in the corner. Brittany stared at it for a moment; it's red and orange blazing residues casting a red soft glow over the room. Brittany kicked off her high heels feeling suddenly at home.

She looked at the king-sized bed in the center of the room, white sheets surrounded by a black leather frame – various cushions leaning insouciantly against the headboard. Brittany gulped, suddenly feeling a sense of longing and nostalgia. This was the exact same bed, she was sure of it. The bed _they_ used. Brittany put her hand to her chest trying to pacify her own heartbeat. Maybe it was the thought of Santana, maybe it was because her life felt monotonous of late, or the fact that she missed her old schooldays and the fun she had, or that she was in a pointless relationship – or maybe a combination of all of the above, but she felt more alive tonight than she had done in a long time.

Brittany turned back and opened the large drawers where Santana's clothes presumably were. She started rummaging through underwear and t-shirts, looking for something that caught her eye. Then something did. She stretched her arm to the far back of Santana's top drawer and pulled out an object. It was a black strap-on. Brittany's eye's bulged out of her head. She clasped her hand over her mouth to try muffle her sudden giggles, hoping Santana wouldn't hear. _Well, that's what you get for going through her shit. _The blonde had an abrupt mental image of Santana with it on wearing the black eagle-face shaped mask she wore earlier, Brittany wasn't quite sure how long she stood there with that thought in mind. Suddenly feeling a bit flustered, she tried to forget the image as she stuffed it back quickly and opened the next drawer.

She grabbed a pair of black shorts and then flipped through various piles of tops until something else caught her eye. Brittany almost didn't believe it, if seeing Santana or her bed or Puck wasn't nostalgic enough for her, _this _sure was. She took out an old, worn white t-shirt and held it up so that the dim light from the lava lamp hut it - she wanted to make sure. It was the same t-shirt; the one Brittany had given to Santana years ago, a plain white one with the word 'Lebanese' across it. _Looks like I've found something to wear. _Brittany slid off her dress and pulled it on along with the shorts in one quick motion and skipped back into the living room.

Santana had already gotten changed; she had on similar shorts, socks and a black tank top. There were two glasses of wine on the table as Santana sat on the sofa, listening intently to the news. She did a double-take when Brittany entered the room. The blonde couldn't help but giggle. Santana put her face down and slapped her hand to her forehead shaking her head abundantly, although Brittany could tell she was grinning. The Latina gave a low husky laugh.

"You didn't…" she said, still shaking her head in disbelief and probably also in embarrassment.

"I did." piped back Brittany skipping over and slumping down into the sofa next to Santana.

Santana looked up and stared at Brittany, whom she often used to tell that her "people" couldn't blush, but there was certainly a hint of it on the Latina's face. Brittany understood the look in Santana's eyes – it was one of mortification, introversion and humility, so she decided to not press the issue further or question why the Latina still had this t-shirt. _Plus too, I only have one question I get to ask tonight. _Santana leaned forward, grabbed the glass and took a sip of wine. Brittany mimicked her and did the same.

"So…shoot" said Brittany, curious as to what the Latina would ask her. She could tell Santana was thankful for the change in subject.

"That's right…one question" she mused darkly, rubbing her jawline in thought.

Brittany unintentionally sat forward closer to the other woman, awaiting the question. She had already mentally prepared for '_Are you seeing anyone'? 'What do you do for a living'? _Although to be honest she hadn't a clue as to what else the other woman could ask. Brittany's list of questions to ask Santana seemed infinitely longer than any she could think the Latina would want to ask her.

"Are you happy?" Santana asked, her voice low and raspy.

"I…" Brittany begun, she didn't expect this type of question, it was personal, and very non-specific; she could answer with one word if she wanted to. It was so unlike Santana. Brittany skewed her mouth and started bopping her head from side to side, indicating she was weighing up her options. After a short while, she came to a sad realization – so she shook her head slowly at the brunette. Santana gave her a small, empathetic but wry smile. She took another sip of wine. Again Brittany mimicked her, realizing how upset she suddenly felt, she wasn't one to get down about things either. As if sensing the bad turn this had taken, Santana reminded the blonde of their agreement.

"Your turn" she said simply.

Brittany was almost tempted to ask her the same question, but she got the feeling she already knew the answer would be the same as her own. She tried to push back the personal questions she wanted to ask, she wasn't sure she could handle any drama tonight – so far the night had been confusing, but seeing Santana again had been one of the best things to happen to her for a long time. She decided on a practical question and something that had been bugging her all night.

"Why do you sometimes, like, jerk your shoulder?" Brittany asked, trying her best to explain what she meant.

Santana put her glass down slowly. _Clearly not the question she was expecting_.

"Whadda y'mean" she said quickly as she abruptly got up and started pacing up and down the length of the coffee table. Brittany scrunched her nose.

"Like, I've noticed it all night – you do this weird…" she begun and then decided the best way was to show it and demonstrated to the Latina by doing the circular motion herself.

"Oh, that's nothing, how am I supposed to know what I do?" she dismissed it, feigning ignorance whilst retaining casualness. Her reaction seemed genuine; Brittany almost believed her. _Almost. _

"Santana, we had a deal" the blonde stated bluntly, sensing another impending lie.

At this comment Santana closed her mouth and they both fell into silence. After a short while, Santana huffed as Brittany continued to stare disappointedly at her.

"_Fine_…" she conceded.

"I was shot" she said, hunching up her shoulders and looking away.

Brittany blinked widely at her. _Shot?_

"Shot? As in _shot_ shot?" Brittany asked, her voice a little higher than she intended.

"What other kind is there?" the Latina retorted, beginning to sound annoyed.

Brittany blinked yet again, she could hardly believe it. It wasn't the answer she was expecting, she thought that maybe the Latina would tell her she worked out too much or that she had injured it doing some super cool dance move – or even something kinky, _but shot? _Brittany now began to formulate all sorts of images in her head, before she knew or could stop it a flood of questions came pouring out.

"When? How? Are you OK? Are you a cop? Or a bodyguard? Oh! Are you in a street gang?" the blonde began to twitter on.

She could tell by the look on the Latina's face that she didn't know wither the blonde dancer was being serious or mocking her. To be honest, Brittany herself didn't know either.

"They all sound like questions to me" panned Santana, still sounding annoyed.

"Can you at least tell me if you are OK, like does it hurt or anything? Where exactly were you shot? asked Brittany, subconsciously standing up and outstretching an arm across to the Latina. Santana stepped back from her and folded her arms.

"My shoulder…duh" she said sarcastically, frowning at the blonde.

"Right…" sighed Brittany stupidly, now walking around the table to come face to face with the Latina. Brittany still got the feeling she was holding something back from her and she tried to convey this with her eyes. Santana seemed to pick up on it.

"OK….look, I was shot and my lung collapsed"

"-but I thought you got shot in the shoulder" Brittany interrupted.

Santana held up an impatient hand as if to say '_I'm getting to that part'._ Brittany understood and began biting her thumbnail awaiting the rest of the story.

"I was shot and my right lung collapsed" the Latina continued. "You see, I was sort of…uhm…shot from below? Meaning the trajectory of the bullet-" she suddenly paused and looked at Brittany.

The blonde knew why she paused – to make sure Brittany was keeping up with her, something the Latina used to always do to make sure the blonde never felt lost or confused in conversation. Brittany understood however, and nodded for her to continue.

"-Meaning the trajectory of the bullet entered through my abdomen" she continued, holding her hand near her front. "Past my ribcage, puncturing my lung and out through my back, upper shoulder blade." she said, rolling it as she described.

Brittany simply nodded again figuring she'd hear more if she kept quiet.

"Anyway, it was about a year ago, and since then I've had to deal with the pain of it." said Santana, for the first time tonight sounding entirely grim.

"Can't you take painkillers or something?" asked the blonde, feeling pity for her.

"No they don't help, you see…" said the Latina hesitantly as she walked around the table and slumped back into the sofa.

"The pain isn't real. Well, not really…" she continued, turning her attention to the TV screen.

Brittany frowned in confusion and sat down next to her.

"It's like people who lose a limb but still claim they can feel pain from it – like a phantom pain" she said, still gazing at the TV.

"I know what you mean but I don't see how yours can be like that" said Brittany quickly, wondering if she had misunderstood. Santana clarified her meaning.

"When I was shot, I was still a stubborn bitch…can't keep a Lopez down" Santana said in a mocking voice Brittany knew to be an imitation of her father, .

"Most people, well above 90% of _normal _people would have passed out with the pain, but noooo….not me" said Santana, sounding maddened with herself as she traced a finger round the edge of a now empty wine glass.

Santana tore her gaze from the television and locked eyes with the blonde. Brittany's heart began to thud loudly again; she had the sudden urge to lean over and kiss her for some reason, but thought better of it. _I was lucky enough to coax one out of her tonight. Even if there was no tongue. _Brittany shook her head to forget the idea and also because she wasn't quite sure she was following what the Latina was saying. Santana brought both her legs up on the couch and shifted her weight to face Brittany.

"I was conscious the whole time, felt my lung collapse, my breathing fade, the blood gush out from me…"

Brittany grimaced in repulsion. Santana gave her a small smirk which Brittany thought was mean. _She did that on purpose. _Brittany wasn't very good with gruesome things, even just hearing it second-hand.

"To cut a long story short, whenever my heart rate increases dramatically – my lungs expand beyond normal, which just brings back the pain, the pain in my shoulder – even though technically there's just a scar there. So I roll it, to remind myself of that fact – that it's not real, that the pain isn't real - OK? You happy?" she snapped, raising an eyebrow looking entirely defensive.

"You already asked me that question" Brittany deadpanned. They both slowly smiled at this.

Brittany sighed; finished the last of her wine and they both fell into a now entirely comfortable silence. Brittany's mind was still racing. _Why was she shot? Was this neighborhood really as bad as she had heard? Why did she give Puck all that money? Why did she insist in bringing me back here? What did she mean when she said to Kingsley that she had "seen too much"? _ _If Santana rolled her shoulder when she had difficulty breathing – why did she do so around me? What does it mean? Do I make her nervous? Do I annoy her? _The blonde yawned, she had definitely surpassed her mental capacity for today, for most days in fact – her brain simply couldn't take in much more information. She was finally tired.

"We should hit the hay" Santana grumbled, standing up. Brittany looked around the immaculate living room, confused.

"San, you don't have any hay here"

Santana gave her an incredulous look, narrowed her eyes and cocked her head forward, apparently waiting for Brittany to say something. Then it clicked.

"Oh…right" said Brittany sheepishly. _You idiot._

Brittany watched as Santana went into a closet and brought out a small pillow and sheets. She slapped Brittany's thigh to signal her to get up from the sofa, Brittany was almost tempted to sit there defiantly just so the Latina could hit her like that again, but decided against it.

"You can crash on my bed, I'll sleep here" said Santana offhandedly.

"But I seen your bed Santana, it's like the same one – we should both sleep on it" said Brittany, her face dropped at the prospect of lying on that bed alone. Santana's eyes darted about the place as she slapped her pillow for the tenth time.

"I don't th-" the Latina started but stopped. Her voice was a whole octave higher than it normally was. Brittany giggled. Santana coughed and hut her fist against her throat rather harshly, as if suggesting there was some physical reason why she suddenly sounded like a 10-year-old girl again. Brittany thought it was adorable.

"I don't think that's such a good idea" she continued, straightening the sheets on the sofa and yet again fixing the pillow. She didn't look up at Brittany.

"OK, well…see you in the morning…sweet dreams" the blonde sighed.

She understood and perhaps agreed with Santana, that bed held a lot of fond memories and even though Brittany was exhausted she couldn't say with certainty she would be able to keep away from Santana if they were to sleep on it again. The flat went into darkness as both women lay down in separate rooms. Brittany rolled over on the bed and smelled the familiar scent and noticed the bed was just as comfortable as she remembered. She felt guilty stealing Santana's comfy bed away from her. Not knowing how much time had passed since they said goodnight, the blonde got up and crept into the living room through the darkness, barely making out shapes and objects. She rubbed then focused her eyes, the moonlight coming in from the small window shone onto Santana, whose chest was rising and falling slowly; she appeared to be fast asleep. Brittany crept forward, cautiously pulled the covers off from the Latina and stared at her for a moment. The taller woman then bent down and slowly put her arms under the Latina's back and thighs, then picked her up gently. The Latina frowned but didn't stir. She was just as light as she was as a late teen.

Brittany very carefully brought her back through to the bedroom and placed her slowly onto the bed, wrapping the covers over the brunette as she did. Making sure her head was on the pillow and she was comfortable. Santana licked her lips and rolled over onto her side, apparently unaware she was now sleeping in an entirely different location. Brittany smiled and crept back into the living room, taking her place on the sofa. She grabbed the remote and lay down, flicking on the TV as she did. She didn't plan on watching anything; she just liked the background noise. The news channel came on again and there was footage of a vaguely familiar man on screen. Brittany yawned, feeling her eyelids getting heavier and heavier. Santana was probably going to be mad at Brittany for moving her; she got touchy at the strangest things sometimes, the blonde thought. Brittany gave one last smile as she slipped into slumber. She didn't much care.


	4. Chapter 4

*****A/N***: Hey guys, sorry for the delay – here's the next chapter. I do read over the reviews so keep letting me know what you think. It's a shame FF doesn't allow you to reply directly to review – what is up with that? (I may or may not have unintentionally quoted Holly Holliday). :D**

**/**

Santana Lopez tossed and turned around on her bed, her eyes finally giving in to the ray of sun that had evaded her blinds and was now torching her eyelids to open. Kicking back the bed sheets irritably she sat up and rubbed her eyes. She heard the TV from the living room and suddenly the memories of last night came flooding back to her. _Brittany. _She jerked up from her bed and ran across to the mirror, applying moisturizing cream to her face and brushing her hair. She hadn't even removed her make-up from the night before. This situation felt very odd for the dark-haired woman, in the last few years she had never woken up in her flat to find herself with company. Any _endeavors_ she had normally didn't stick around for breakfast, she had personally made sure to keep it that way – wither implementing this by lying, being blatantly rude or simply telling them to leave after she had gotten what she needed on the night. Santana looked at her own reflection in the mirror. _When did I become such a tactless bitch?_

She sighed. She knew of course that there was a legitimate reason for her being stand-offish, she simply needed to be given her current line of work – but there was no denying that sometimes it was just a convenient excuse, she had to admit that she isn't and never was much of a people person. She thought about the blonde that had barraged her way back into her life again last night. Santana was shocked, relieved and entirely euphoric to see her again – but the timing of it couldn't be worse.

She couldn't possibly tell Brittany what she _really _does for a living, where would she even begin to explain what the past four, almost five years of her life had been like without her? The dark, dangerous, secluded, sheltered bubble she was now occupying. She didn't have girlfriends, or even friends really – everything was about work, about the end goal – to which her and her co-workers where now ever so close to, they just had to hang in there and follow through with orders. Santana would have to find a way to get rid of Brittany, just for the time being at least – even though all she wanted to do was catch up with her and maybe reminisce about old times – maybe even become friends again. Maybe one day soon she'd be able to spill all to the blonde, but it would just complicate things to involve her now, and maybe even put her at risk from things beyond Santana's control. _Besides, she probably has a life of her own now._

Santana pulling on some black socks remembered how good Brittany was at wheedling answers out of her, she had already successfully managed to last night where Santana admitted she had been previously shot. _God damn it. _To be fair, she simply wasn't expecting the question – but still, she felt thoroughly pissed off with herself, she should be used to prying questions by now and answering them with ease – she was somewhat of a professional after all. Brittany had simply taken her by surprise.

Santana wasn't being entirely honest with the blonde though, she figured if she admitted she was shot but exclude most of the relevant details - it would sate Brittany's curiosity and buy her more time. Another tactic learned in her line of work – be vague with details, admit to a small truth and masquerade it as being the whole truth. Santana chuckled; it was much like being a closeted gay teenager. Except the consequences would be a thousand times worse if she were ever caught.

Santana still wearing nothing but a tank top, shorts and socks got up and opened her door slowly, peering down the hallway into the living room – from this angle she couldn't see the rest of the living room though. Santana suddenly felt ridiculous. _Since when did I sneak around in my own freakin' home? _A familiar pang of pain shot through her right shoulder blade. _Breathe._

Getting a hold of her self, the Latina sped down the hallway and into the living room. Brittany half-wrapped in bed sheets sat on the sofa, a plate of toast in hands and was watching a cartoon on TV, Santana was pretty sure it was _SpongeBob SquarePants_. _A cartoon network? _Santana didn't even know she had that channel; she mostly had the 24-hour news on. Brittany smiled at her and mumbled 'morning', whilst eating her toast. Santana couldn't help but smile back, she looked up to the clock – it was only 7:04am. Santana felt surprisingly well rested considering they only went to bed literally a few hours ago.

Santana looked down past the dancers shorts she had borrowed and to her toned legs. She looked back up peculiarly at the leg warmers on her arms and (embarrassingly enough) the old faded white 'Lebanese' t-shirt she was wearing that she had once given to Santana.

Santana simply gazed at her, totally but rather blissfully dumbfounded. She had suddenly remembered all the unique, cute little quips Brittany came out with last night. Even when she came barging into the VIP section of the club, her awkwardness was even somehow oddly alluring. Brittany had never ceased to amaze Santana, she was a whirlwind of things that didn't and shouldn't make sense in the world - but just did because it happened to be Brittany's world, and it was hard not to get sucked into wanting to live in it.

The thing that struck Santana the most was that she hadn't changed, not one iota. Santana felt a little depressed at this, her life in recent years had made her colder, bitchier and frankly left her feeling bitter at the world for the choices she herself had made - but here Brittany was, still the same. The reality of post-high school life (and post-Santana life) didn't seem to phase or change her at all, where Santana feared it would; that life like the son of a bitch it was, would grind down and ruin the blondes character over the years – but as far as Santana could tell she was exactly the same. She was almost too good to be true.

"Uh…earth to Santana? Why are you grinning at me like that, you sorta look like my proud grandmother - like when she sent me to school for the first time…although she died later on in that day so…wait, you're not going to die are you?" asked Brittany airily.

Santana chuckled. _Was she kidding? Was that rhetorical or…? _It was hard to tell from the blonde's lack of tone sometimes. Santana learned a long time ago it was better just to answer Brittany's points, even if she intentionally made them or not.

"No Brit I'm not planning on it…" sighed Santana. She frowned now just realizing something that had apparently being gnawing away at her. "Hey, you were supposed to take the bed – why are you through here?"

The blonde merely shrugged a shoulder at her, taking a last bite of toast.

"I carried you back through, like a baby" Brittany said mockingly, uncrossing her legs and stretching them out to rest on the coffee table casually. Santana shouldn't have been surprised at how quickly she made herself at home.

Santana blinked at her and felt irked.

"Look, I told you it was fine, you really didn't need to…" Santana began rather indignantly. "Wait…you carried me?" she asked raising an eyebrow, perplexed but nevertheless impressed.

"Santana…you of _all _people should know how good I can be with my hands" she said smirking and slouching back insouciantly.

Santana rolled her eyes at her but could feel a blush rising in her cheeks.

Brittany suddenly got up and began to stroll toward Santana slowly, hands clasped behind her back and eyes looking around the room harmlessly. The Latina recognized that body language instantly, it was Brittany's flirty saunter – she always used it when she wanted something. _Or someone._

"What do you want?" asked Santana flatly, folding her arms over her chest, trying to preempt the blonde's advances. Brittany came to a stop in front of her and batted her eyelashes innocently.

"Nothing…just getting up to get a drink" she said blankly.

"Oh, really? Even though you know the kitchen is through there, yet here you are standing right in front of me" stated Santana, her tone a weird combination of flirtatiousness and annoyance. Brittany gave her a sympathetic tilt of the head as if she knew something Santana didn't, which just annoyed her more.

"I was just going to tell you thanks for letting me stay over, aaaand that you also looked super hot last night, not to say that you don't look hot now, it's just y'know…" the blonde said, shrugging and gazing into Santana's eyes.

Santana looked away rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly, if there was one thing Santana Lopez had a weakness for – it was those bright blue eyes. She couldn't quite believe they still had the same effect on her after all this time, like a few years ago were only yesterday. It made her feel uneasy and out of control – and Santana Lopez was a person that always needed to be in control of her surroundings.

"Thanks, you look great as ever too" mumbled Santana bashfully. With this, Brittany closed the gap between them so they were face-to-face. Santana suddenly felt cornered, she looked helplessly around the room for some sort of assistance or distraction. None came.

"If you were any other person, I'd totally be making out with you right now" said Brittany, her lip curled into a devilish smile as she began to slowly twist from left to right on the spot.

Santana, arms still folded defensively, clenched her hands around her arms tighter. Her heart began to flutter as the familiar shooting pain came back to her shoulder. Her lips formed into a wry smile as she tilted her head up.

"Is that so?" Santana asked coyly, her voice sounding suddenly more raspy than usual. She couldn't help it, when Brittany was this unabashedly flirting with her; it's simply too hard not to at least flirt back. It's a common courtesy, Santana thought.

"Yep" said the blonde matter-of-factly, sweeping back her hair and unashamedly looking Santana up and down.

"Well…" started Santana, suddenly feeling like she was being scanned. "If I recall last night, you have a boyfriend so…I highly doubt that" she said, sounding a little more dismayed than she had intended.

The blonde stopped swaying and raised her eyebrows at her, hands still clasped behind back; she leaned forward to the side of Santana's face.

"Since when has _that_ stopped us before?" she whispered huskily into Santana's ear, before pulling away and gazing at Santana once more.

Santana gulped and began to shake her head slowly, although she wasn't quite sure the blonde had necessarily asked her a question.

Brittany merely smiled, spun around, hands still clasped around back and skipped toward the kitchen rather triumphantly. Santana scowled at the now empty room. She got the feeling Brittany knew exactly what she was doing, that Santana would eventually cave and tell her everything, that she would allow Brittany so easily back into her life – and that all the blonde had to do was bat her eyelids. The scary thing is, Santana thought – she may be right.

A few hours had passed with little said as both women had taken showers and gotten ready for the day, Brittany didn't have normal everyday clothes but she somehow managed to combine her heels with a pair of Santana's skinny jeans and to Santana's disgust insisted on keeping the 'Lebanese' t-shirt on. The whole ensemble would have looked ridiculous on anybody else. _Never Brittany. _Santana herself chose casual skinny jeans and a striped tank top – it was a welcome change from her usual attire she had to wear working shifts at 'Pulse'.

They both sat down on the sofa and watched the news channel, sounds of city in the summer drafting lazily in from the window. Brittany, clearly uninterested, spun around and slouched, and lay her feet across Santana's lap. Santana kept her attention on the TV but let her eyes dart to her right. Brittany was giving her a strange frowned look – it was a look of confused monotony, as if the blonde was thoroughly bored and was trying to gauge her attention, much like a child would its mother. Santana gave a low laugh.

"Grumpy gills" Santana said teasingly. With this the blonde perked up and clapped her hands.

"Finding Nemo! Ah, you remember my favorite movie" said the blonde grinning in surprise, as if it was the best thing she had heard all year.

"Of course I do" said Santana, noticing how melancholily nostalgic she sounded.

Both their grins fell into small smiles and they continued to simply look at one another. Santana could feel the burning sensation Brittany's legs were giving her, miraculously through layers of clothing too, the Latina shifted uncomfortably. Brittany seemed to notice as she withdrew her legs, sat up and crossed them – her back to the arm of the sofa, now facing Santana entirely. Santana figured it was coming, the rest of Brittany's questions, they'd perhaps even talk about when they parted. Santana didn't particular relish the idea of discussing any of this with Brittany, because some things were bound to rehash over old hurtful memories or because she simply couldn't allow Brittany to wriggle her way into Santana's new ones either. Brittany seemed to be mulling over similar thoughts.

"Hey, so um…can I see you again?" she asked, sounding uncharacteristically shy.

"Maybe, I guess" Santana shrugged back, trying to appear as if she didn't care either way – which wasn't exactly true, but she had to start pushing the blonde outwards, it was the only way. _Sadly._

"Maybe?" scowled Brittany as she began patting a rhythm against her crossed legs.

Santana nodded and shrugged her shoulders indifferently once more.

"Our deal was we had to answer ten questions honestly, not be a totally vague moron" moaned Brittany, pouting her bottom lip ever so slightly.

"So this is another one of your questions? OK so that's you down to eight-"

"-That's not fair, you didn't answer!" Brittany interjected, Santana almost laughed at how childish she sounded.

"Calm down Goldie Locks, and yeah I did answer you – my answer was maybe, and it was an honest answer" said Santana collectedly. She made sure she made eye contact to reinforce to Brittany that her answer was simply the most honest she could give. Brittany then huffed, crossed her arms and frowned at Santana, apparently convinced by the sincerity but unimpressed by the answer.

"So then, it's Saturday – what do you normally do on Saturdays?" Brittany asked, her irritability melding with mild curiosity.

"Uh…gym, work and other stuff" said Santana quickly.

"Wow, really – stuff? How interesting" said the blonde sarcastically. "Well I normally give a yoga class in the afternoon, I run the 'metro dance studio', you've probably heard of it"

"Yeah, I might start going. I haven't decided yet, but I personally prefer going to the gym…" said Santana truthfully.

"That's good because we have an empty hall that we're going to kit out with gym equipment, so the place will be like doubled-up as a gym and dance studio" said Brittany excitedly, pumping both her fists. Santana gave her an incisive look.

"The big New York dream not all it's cracked up to be, eh?" she snapped sourly.

_Shit. _She didn't mean for it to come out as bitter and bitchy as that but sometimes she couldn't stop her word vomit. Santana folded and crossed her legs and turned on the sofa to face Brittany, now mirroring her position. Brittany was looking at her with narrowed eyes; clearly she thought Santana's comment was a low blow. They both knew the real reason it was a touchy subject – they had split up and parted ways when they were both around twenty-one, Santana staying in Ohio and Brittany moving to New York to pursue her dreams as a dancer.

Before that they had dated since high school where Brittany had helped Santana come out (in more ways than one), and up until Brittany moved away it was undoubtedly the best few years of Santana's life. They all went to college and did various arts related activities, Santana sang, she had friends, she was with the girl of her dreams – they would all take road trips in the summer together and win money in show choir competitions, they even did a few local television promotional stints. They all dreamed of what they would do later on in life and back then even in their early twenties the future looked bright and their lives were just beginning. _The grass always does look greener from the other side. _

It was the hardest decision she had ever had to make, and she fully regrets not going with Brittany (especially now circumstances brought her to New York herself). Santana, now looking back in retrospect knew she was afraid to leave Lima because she was simply afraid to live life, she had grown accustomed to the group of friends she had and the financial support her parents had given her – simply put she was spoiled, and too comfortable in her surroundings. She'd never forget that dark day at the airport when they were both crying, it was the first time Santana had _truly_ cried, a blubbering and never-ending stream of tears, a grief almost. Not only that but she didn't care that people were staring at her, but more importantly she was oblivious to them all the same. A rare moment in her life where she wasn't even marginally self-conscious.

Santana had, through the years, put the memory to the back of her mind; it was both one of immense sadness and sheer embarrassment. She had clung to Brittany at the airport, and had even tried to physically stop the blonde from leaving as she sobbed uncontrollably into her shoulder. She had been like a toddler clinging to their mother when they didn't get what they wanted. Santana, whenever the rare moment occurred that she would think about this memory was always shocked at how needy she had been. The sheer unfiltered desperation she had felt for another human being not to leave her almost like she would physically die without them, and the sense of utter abandonment she felt once she watched the plane fly off into the distance – the details began to get quite blurry hereafter as Santana couldn't quite remember what had happened, she was pretty sure she had stood there staring at the sky for hours on end until she was ushered on by airport security.

They had kept in contact for a few weeks afterwards via the Internet, but Santana had built up nothing but resentment and anger toward Brittany, desperate to paint herself as the victim, as the one who had been abandoned - Santana had then (over the phone) told Brittany it was better if they didn't speak again – and that was that. The emails, Skype conversations, texts had all stopped, eventually Santana deleted her lovers phone number from her mobile. She had fully regretted not going with the blonde, but it was so much easier just to be mad at her than concede she was wrong.

That's when Santana's downward spiral began; she threw herself into working in a field she never thought she would (which eventually and rather ironically led her here to New York anyway) and she never sang again. Not once, not even in the shower. Santana didn't even have to consciously stop herself from singing around the house or humming along to a tune on the radio or even whistle – because it simply never happened, she had literally lost the ability to want to sing ever again. She wasn't even sure if she still could. Her passion for music had died a little that day, yet again it seemed as if Brittany was tantamount to some of Santana's best qualities. Not that Santana would ever admit any of this to Brittany.

"Sorry, I didn't mean that" Santana mumbled, head low staring at her feet, she looked up slowly for her response.

Brittany, arms crossed, rather mellow-dramatically swished her head around and pouted at the TV. Santana was momentarily reminded of a young Rachel Berry, one of her fellow Glee club members. _Now there's a comparison I'd never thought I'd make._

"Yeah you did, but it's OK – I forgive you" sighed the blonde resting back and suddenly looking unconcerned. Her tone had put emphasis on the last part. _She forgives me? For the bitchy snide remark or…everything else? _Santana thought that maybe it had a double meaning; Brittany was deceptively smart when she wanted to be. Santana couldn't think of anything to say so she gave Brittany a small thankful smile in return. Brittany's face suddenly skewed into an excited surprise as she pointed at the television screen.

"Look! Oh my god, it's Quinn! I still can't believe I see her on TV sometimes." she said, mouth agape.

"Mhmm…this is what I was waiting on seeing actually" said Santana, turning up the volume.

Quinn Fabray, their old cheerleading squad mate, Glee club member and friend was now on the television screen. She was on a news panel talking about New York's current state senate run, most of which was mundane detail. Quinn, wearing a smart cream shirt with frilly patterns around the neck spoke quietly but eloquently as ever, addressing various points put to her with ease. She occasionally flipped her short hair around before answering certain questions. Her look and persona was almost 'first lady' like. Quinn was often seen on these political pundit shows, mostly talking politics but occasionally talking about environmental issues and was even partial to discussing celebrities and the media's interest in them at times. This was because Quinn owned and ran one of the largest media cooperation's in the country; she edited and published the second biggest selling newspaper in the state – 'The New York Daily Express', second only to the 'New York Times'. Santana watched and occasionally nodded furiously at some of the points she would make, then the segment ended. Santana turned the TV off. It was nearing the afternoon and she still hadn't moved.

"Woah, she's even still so pretty isn't she? Go Quinn…she's smart too" said Brittany, almost dreamily.

"Yeah…" said Santana simply, wanting to suddenly change the subject. "Look Brit, there's someone I really need to go see…" she trailed her words seeing Brittany's face drop in disappointment. "Sorry, but how about this? I take you out to dinner later, nothing special, there's a 'Breadstix' near here – it'll give us a chance to properly catch up, no interruptions" she continued, hoping that it would be enough. She needed to buy herself just a little more time. Brittany seemed excited at the prospect.

"Yay! Awesome, I love 'Breadstix', what time should I come over?" she asked eagerly, getting up from the sofa and strolling to the window.

"Actually…could you stay here? Kingsley said he was going to drop something off and…you know what? It doesn't matter...forget it" Santana hesitated; she had completely forgotten he was coming over today; he had said so last night. She couldn't ask Brittany to hang around for a package.

"No it's OK, I'll stay – but I'll need to go home at some point to change" she said tugging at the 'Lebanese' t-shirt she was wearing, giggling. Santana's stomach flipped at how cute she sounded, she couldn't help but laugh herself, nodding in agreement.

"I owe you, thanks" said Santana as she stood up, grabbed her leather jacket and swung it on. "Although don't you have a Yoga class to teach?" she inquired, flipping her hair over the collar.

"Yeah but I can just ask Chris to take that" she said simply. "Really it's not a problem Santana" Brittany insisted, clasping her hands together and stretching them out.

"Chris…I see" said Santana slowly. _Bastard. _

Santana didn't know why she was annoyed at Brittany for telling her his name; she figured it was simply better or easier to hate a nameless, faceless guy. Knowing his name was already more information than she ever wanted to hear about him. How was it even possible to be jealous of someone she had never met? _I'm not even jealous. _Brittany seemed to sense Santana's internal woes.

"Mhmm-mm…he's a dancer too" said Brittany coyly, raising her head, baiting Santana – her eyes glinting mischievously, as if knowing what it was doing to her.

_Already way too much information._ Santana shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Cool…" Santana mumbled. "So I'll head out now, help yourself to food, watch TV or whatever. When Kingsley comes, just take whatever he has and put it on the bookshelf – word of warning he's not too good with small talk so just, don't be friendly or anything" said Santana jokingly. "Although that's probably impossible for you" she added as an afterthought.

Brittany smiled sweetly - giving her a loving, bashful shrug of the shoulder. _Shucks._

Santana went over toward the door and put on her high-heeled boots, grabbing her keys from the bookshelf as she went.

"So listen…I'll be an hour, two at the very most – probably won't be that long. Remember don't eat too much, we have dinner plans. Also lock the door behind me, there's another key on the shelf" said Santana as she held her hand up in goodbye, not turning to face the blonde as she headed toward the front door.

"Santana, wait-"

Before she could even turn around to ask what the blonde wanted, a massive force hut her back, jolting her forward, Brittany's body suddenly collided with her own - the blonde had ran toward her at lightning speed and grasped her into a large, intimate hug from behind. One arm over her right shoulder and the other under her left arm, bringing both her hands to meet clasped in front of the Latina's chest. Brittany nuzzled her head into the back of Santana, her cheek pressing against Santana's right shoulder, and probably unbeknownst to Brittany over her shoulder blade scar.

"I've missed you" she said quietly, her voice muffled against the leather material of Santana's jacket.

Santana gulped thickly and rolled her eyes, not in annoyance but because this was torture. The blonde felt so good – she could feel her body against hers, the familiar touch and warmth sent a tingling sensation down her spine. Not to mention Brittany's hands clasped over her front, almost coming into contact with her chest. Santana could feel her own breathing heave and a familiar pain surge in her shoulder, but it seemed to be oddly nullified with Brittany resting against her like this.

"I've missed you too" whispered Santana surprised at her own honesty.

She raised her left hand and patted Brittany's clasped hands twice then decided to leave it there, holding the blondes hands in her own. Santana began to stroke her thumb up and down over the back of Brittany's hand soothingly. It was soft and warm. It felt familiar but somehow new. This hug was already way beyond platonic.

"So much…" sighed Brittany.

Santana almost laughed but she couldn't, instead the feeling just fluttered in her stomach. She got the impression Brittany was merely adding to this non-conversation in order to prolong this embrace as long as she could. Not that Santana was complaining. She had lost the ability to formulate words so she moved Brittany's hands and brought them against her chest, making sure they pressed against her heart that was thumping out a very irregular beat of its own – hoping that this would somehow express how she was feeling more than words could.

Brittany hummed peacefully in response.

Santana felt her head lull back lazily into the blondes shoulder, exposing her neck more as she subconsciously leaned further back into the blonde. _Bad Idea. Probably. _All Brittany would have to do is raise her head, lean over and…_bad idea. _Santana was certainly not going to make the first move, but she couldn't say that she'd be able to stop herself if Brittany did.

Santana was lost in a delightful, comfortable stupor of both a physical and emotional nature without a care in the world. _Therein lies the problem. _Santana brought her head forward and came out of her daze somewhat. She did have cares in the world, cares that she couldn't afford to be distracted from, that were much bigger and more important than herself or Brittany.

Regretting it with every fiber of her being, she patted the blonde's hands again but more forcefully this time to indicate she wanted to move. She heard the blonde moan slightly and felt her pull away, Santana suddenly felt a little incomplete. Santana couldn't quite bring herself to turn around and face Brittany, so she held up her hand in goodbye once more and opened the front door.

"See you later, don't forget about dinner" she said monotonously as she shut the door behind her and came into the apartment hallways.

A few seconds later she heard the door handle rustle and click behind her, Brittany had locked the door just as she had asked. Santana leaned back against the door quietly and felt her body slide down it slowly.

_Shit. Shit. Shit. _Santana had a real quandary on her hands, she could already feel herself slip away, her concentration lapse, she was certainly losing this little game she and Brittany had been playing and they had only met again last night, it had taken the blonde mere hours to get more from her than most people got within months. Yes, she was certainly losing the game. Looking back over the years, she wondered if it was one she had ever won or even be able to win – maybe Brittany had rigged it from start.

Santana only had a few friends in her life now, probably only two, both of them co-workers – but she knew who she had to go see now. If there was one person that could give her advice, or perhaps even some sort of permission – it was her boss. _If anybody can help me with this Brittany predicament, she can._

Santana stood up and headed downstairs, out the building into the scorching summers day and walked toward her car.

**/**

Brittany locked the door and turned back to the now empty apartment. She leaned back into the door and found herself slide down it slowly. Events since last night had been a bit of a whirlwind but through it all she knew two things. One, she wanted Santana now more than she ever had. _Absence makes the heart grow fonder, isn't that what they say or something? _And two, she knew Santana was pushing her away for some reason, and that only ignited Brittany's desire to get closer to her. Brittany frowned suddenly and listened to the silence, she had thought for a second that somebody was on the other side of the door; it was just a feeling she got. She sat for a minute longer and shrugged it off. _Probably my imagination. _She got up and slumped stomach first onto the sofa, she turned the TV back on and began flipping between various cartoon channels.

Brittany was in a rather pointless relationship with Chris, it was an open relationship, they weren't serious or anything but they had been seeing each other on and off for about a year. Yet, bizarrely Brittany was already thinking of ways to tell him she no longer wanted to continue the relationship, if it was even that. _Sex is not dating. _Brittany grimaced at the thought; she couldn't quite believe she was seriously considering this after spending mere hours with Santana. _Is this normal?_ Brittany let her thoughts wash over her until the front door of Santana's apartment was being chapped. Brittany sprang up in fright. It couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes since Santana left. She still had this ridiculous t-shirt on, that probably wouldn't have made much sense at face value. She clambered over the sofa and ran toward the door, unlocking it and opening it cautiously. To her utter surprise, she didn't need to worry about looking silly in the t-shirt after all.

"Hey babe, Puck-O-Sauras calling in for duty" grinned a familiar face.

"Puck!" squealed Brittany giddily as they high-fived each other. Puck was wearing a back-to-front white baseball cap, blue jeans, large boots and a white wife-beater tank top. He looked better than Brittany had seen him last night, but he still wasn't the Noah Puckerman she remembered. His eyes still had a deathly look about them.

Puck had already pushed past Brittany and entered the flat, and turned into the kitchen quickly. Brittany raised her eyebrows after him needlessly.

"Man oh man, I'm starving" she heard him say from the kitchen.

Brittany closed the door quickly behind her and skipped to the kitchen threshold. Puck had already started making himself a peanut butter-jelly sandwich, he went over to the drawer and got out a butter knife. He seemed to know where everything was, like he had been here many times before.

"Uhm…I'm glad to see you Puck but I was sort of expecting the other guy" said Brittany awkwardly, watching him cut his sandwich in half.

"You mean Kingsley? Yeah he asked me to come, he was busy…why in the fuckety fuck are you wearing that ol' thing?" asked Puck as he took a large bite and stared dubiously at Brittany's t-shirt, or maybe her boobs – or both.

"Oh, I had nothing else to wear to bed"

"Bed, eh?" he teased, raising his eyebrows. _At least he hadn't completely changed._

"Not what you're thinking Puck" Brittany chastised him playfully. Brittany watched as Puck wolfed some of his sandwich down. _God how she wished he were right though. _

"Do you often come over here and steal her food?"

Puck let out a 'hmprh' sound.

"Nope, I just remember where her shit is." He said chewing slowly on the last mouthful of bread as he leaned back onto the kitchen counter. Brittany mimicked him and leaned against the doorframe. "Santana and I don't really get along, she just tolerates me – she cares about me yeah, I guess…but if you're looking for some sort of Pucktana bromance story then I'm afraid there isn't one" he said indifferently, pulling up his jeans and scratching his messy facial stubble.

"Oh…" said Brittany gently; she didn't quite know what to say in response to this.

"God damn it Lopez, I told her to take these things" said Puck suddenly as he picked up a small bottle of pills lying on the kitchen counter and rattled them at Brittany. The bottle looked full and unopened. Brittany assumed they were painkillers of some sort.

"She said painkillers don't work on her shoulder" said Brittany sadly.

"No, no – these are not painkillers these are…" Puck trailed his words before apparently coming to realize something, his face contorted in mild-surprise. "Oh, I guess she told you she's a cop then, huh?"

Brittany blinked, not sure wither she had heard him right.

"Well _sort of, _I guess…technically she is" Puck continued, apparently completely oblivious to the shock on Brittany's face.

"Yeah so on the way over here this chick totally hut on me" said Puck, rambling on about something.

"She's…Santana's…what?" asked Brittany eventually, her voice shaking slightly.

Puck's face dropped and if possible he looked even paler than before.

"Shit…you didn't know, did you?" he asked wearily.

Brittany shook her head.

"Aww man I am so stupid, of course she wouldn't tell you…fuck!" said Puck angrily as he punched the fridge door.

Brittany merely stroked her forehead with her palm. She suddenly felt like she didn't know Santana at all.


	5. Chapter 5

*****A/N*****

**Hey guys, sorry for long wait I've been occupied with life and college work – but it's all good now and in the mood for writing, enjoy this new chapter. Almost done with the next too. Feedback as always welcome. Glee's back! :)**

"Look, sorry I shouldn't have said anything I've got to go – don't say anything to her" Puck said quickly as he strode out the kitchen, tossing the pill bottle on the counter as he went.

"Puck wait-" Brittany started.

Slam.

He was already out the front door. Brittany exhaled; she had wanted to ask him many things yet couldn't actually formulate any specific question to ask at all. The miniature pill bottle spun atop the marble counter, ricocheting until finally it stopped spinning near the sink. Brittany was still trying to process everything she had just heard, but she was also sure that Puck said these weren't painkillers before he dropped the bombshell. Brittany went over, picked up the bottle and read the label on the side. Bolded words spelled out an incredibly long name - Brittany frowned. She had no idea what it meant. She narrowed her eyes trying to read the fine print below, skimming over various words until one familiar jumped out at her: 'Prozac'. Brittany frowned for an entirely different reason.

**/**

Santana hated this place, for one getting here was a bitch, she was used to everything being a 10 minute walk from her flat, but now a 30-minute drive took her to one of the most crowded corners of New York City. Santana Lopez didn't do crowds, or bumping into people, or offering to keep the door open for an old lady. She took one last look upwards at the skyscraper towering in front of her (one of the tallest around for sure) and sighed. Typical of her boss to operate from near the top floor too. _How god damn egomaniacal._

Santana was met by the usual generic image of a busy office building. Endless white walls, clinical offices with glass windows and doors – privacy was clearly never an option. There was also the usual bustling of pale-faced workers monotonously drinking coffee, answering phones and faxing memos. Santana's skin crawled at the thought of working a nine to five office job, as much as she'd likely never admit it – she admired her boss's ability to withstand how depressing it all was.

Santana made her usual dash for one of the many elevators, the one she always took. She almost had it to herself until a middle-aged plump woman wearing a manure colored suit came in holding a clip board mumbling something incoherently to herself. Santana rolled her eyes; she was in no mood for sharing an elevator she planned to take straight to the top floor.

"Out" said Santana flatly.

"Excuse me?" the woman asked, perplexed but clearly offended.

"You heard, get out. Afore's I call your boss…who by the way I have major pull with…and get your fat ass fired" Santana retorted arms folded, faintly smirking at the stranger; applying just the right amount of reserved intimidation. The woman scoffed but did as she was told and toddled back out from the elevator. She turned back to catch one last glimpse of the Latina as the elevator door began to close.

"The exercise will do you good" Santana called back to the woman, nodding her head, the statement somehow managing to sound simultaneously snide but also like a genuine piece of advice.

Santana smirked as the woman's shocked face was hidden from view by the door coming to a close, she was pretty sure the woman had heard. Santana sighed contently. There was a reason she liked this particular elevator, it had a trick. There were 73 floors, another reason she didn't want company, it would take her forever to get to her destination if people kept entering and exiting. She held in the number for 73 then pressed the rest until they all lit up. _There now it won't stop, even if it's called. _Much to her dismay she found out that this trick doesn't work in any of the other elevators she tried.

Santana rested her head back on the wall with a 'thud'. She was pretty sure she was panicking over the Brittany situation. She didn't know what to do, both on a personal level but also with her job being what it is – she wasn't sure seeing Brittany at all was a good idea. _What was I thinking asking her out to dinner? _Santana Lopez never takes girls out to dinner; hell she doesn't even take those she considers close friends out to dinner. She does Breadstix solo; it's always been that way, well...almost always.

Finally reaching the top floor the elevator dinged and the door opened, Santana made her way to the reception. A young blonde woman was typing away on a computer, she spoke without looking up at whoever emerged into the otherwise empty reception area.

"I'm afraid she's busy, if you'd like to make an appointment leave your name and address and I'll make sure you are contacted within the next three months" she said almost robotically as she typed away. _This bitch never learns._

Santana cleared her throat deliberately.

The woman looked up and looked suddenly startled and panicked.

"Oh…miss Lopez, sorry I didn't realize-" she began, Santana cut her off by waving her hand up to silence her.

"Is she in?" asked Santana categorically; in no mood to hear this bimbo's groveling. The receptionist held one finger up as she buzzed into the office and put a hand to her ear where Santana knew her communications headset was placed.

"Yes, she'll see you now, once again I'm-"

"Zip it already" said Santana exasperated, walking by the desk and heading toward the large back office. She looked at the name on the door; it was framed in a golden plaque. 'CEO Quinn Fabray'. Santana knocked then entered.

**/**

Brittany decided to change into something casual, denim shorts complete with suspenders over a cream blouse. She figured Santana wouldn't have time to change so it was best to go casual. _Besides it's only Breadstix, it's not a date or anything. _She was glad for the 20-minute walk from Santana's apartment to her own, it allowed her to mull over Puck's words and really - who would have thought? She had been living in this area for weeks now and she was literally a few blocks away from _Santana._ Maybe they had went to the same 'Starbucks', maybe they had passed each other in the street, drove by one another, withdrew money from the same cash machine – these thoughts frightened Brittany, a wave of relief came over her that she went to that 'Pulse' club last night, because she almost didn't go at all. Then what would have happened? Would she have ever seen her again? Would they have walked by each other and not even know it?

She was now in the car driving toward her dance studio, for a Saturday the streets were rather empty. _Santana's a cop? _Brittany scrunched her nose in concentration, hoping that something would click and everything would suddenly make sense to her. Puck's reaction to her finding out was a complete over-reaction; Brittany didn't quite see what the problem was. _Why is she working in a seedy club if she's a cop? Why is she lying about it? _Regardless, Brittany's heart welled up with something she could only describe being close to pride, she had always known Santana was a good person and frankly she couldn't think of a more fitting job for her to have. Plus too, she'd be lying if she said the thought of Santana in uniform didn't do anything for her. _Weird. _She didn't recall seeing any uniforms in Santana's clothing drawers though.

Brittany then thought of the pills she had seen, she knew of them because when her father passed away her mother was prescribed them by her doctor on a monthly basis, she knew what being on that type of medication entailed. It made her feel uneasy that Santana needed them, and she was desperate to know why.

She parked her car and made her way to the glass double-door entrance, bypassing a few of her students who spent their time free-styling outside of the studio to the beat of a radio that was placed on the brick wall. She was greeted by the usual wolf whistles; a young African-American boy spoke to her.

"Sup miss B, you is looking mighty fiiine today" he said scratching his chin and looking her over, the other boys and girls laughed.

"You too Jay" Brittany replied playfully as she opened the front door and spun back to them.

"Remember guys, you're homework for next week, a written paper on modern dance and how it's impacted theatre and pop culture today…then we'll see some practical demonstrations of modern hip-hop and how it's changed" she reminded them, almost sounding like she was their mother. They groaned in response. She raised her eyebrows and gave them a pointed look. _Don't argue with me._ They groaned again, more in submissive acceptance that they wouldn't get out of it. Brittany smiled satisfied and headed in.

She bypassed the usual classes and headed to her office, she needed to see Chris to apologize for bailing on him last night but also if he could cover her shift tonight. Luckily he was there at her desk, typing on a laptop. Brittany was about to open her mouth but she caught sight of his face and stopped. He had a circular scar on his right cheek and stitches in. He looked up at her and gave a pained smile.

"What on earth happened to you?" Brittany asked, confused as she headed toward him and reached her hand out to touch his cheek.

"Ow, don't…it still hurts" he grunted, wincing. "Besides I can ask you the same question…"

"Yeah sorry about last night, I met up with an old school friend and she and I got round to talking, before we knew it we kinda lost track of time…" said Brittany quickly, hoping it would be sufficient enough information.

"Well I on the other hand, was just talking politely to this chick…" Chris started.

Brittany scoffed. Chris has always been a ladies man, never one to cheat on his serious girlfriends, but he didn't exactly discourage all the attention he was often on the receiving end of.

"Anyway…" he continued, annoyed. "This guy comes out of nowhere and bottles me in the face…glass! Nearly killed me, son of a bitch – I tried swinging back but we got thrown out" he said. Brittany recalled the events of last night, there was a commotion from the bar in the front and that's why the bouncer guarding the VIP section had been distracted and left the area temporary unguarded. Brittany grinned. If it hadn't been for Chris she would have never have even seen Santana. This is what Santana would explain to Brittany as being called irony back in their school days.

"Don't look too happy" said Chris, disrupting the blondes thoughts.

"Sorry it's not that, look – I need a favor. Can you take my yoga class tonight; I'm meeting up with Santana to catch-up" asked Brittany.

"Finally you're letting me take a class, sure – why not."

Brittany bounced up and down uttering thanks.

"Santana? That name sounds familiar…" Chris suddenly mumbled, scratching his temple.

"I've told you about her loads of times, she was my girlfr-…uh…like best friend in high-school, we were in the same Glee club as Rachel Berry?" said Brittany, hoping her fraudulent slip went unnoticed.

"Oh I love Rachel Berry, we should get tickets to see her again" said Chris pointing at Brittany.

"Yeah…" sighed Brittany in relief.

"Anyway I should head back to Santana's…see you later" said Brittany as she placed a quick kiss on Chris's other cheek and headed out. She felt her stomach sink. It's not like they were serious or anything but she felt guilty for lying, she felt like she was sneaking around, cheating almost - and she felt even worse for being thankful that he got a glass bottle in the face. This was not how couples were supposed to act.

/

Santana shut the large door behind her and was now in the most lavish working office she had the pleasure of visiting rather often. Exotic plants were on each corner of the room and a giant plasma television took up almost an entire wall. On the opposite wall the large glass windows gave way to the most breathtaking view of the New York City skyline. In the middle of the room was large brown leather seating and an antique coffee table, upon which sat a wooden box (Santana recognized as) expensive Cuban cigars and various bottles of gin.

The furthest away wall had a brightly lit in-built fish tank where various species fluttered and danced around. Framed against this backdrop was large oak desk littered with office equipment, newspapers and a laptop. The owner of this room, hell this entire building - sat on a large black swivel chair and was writing on a notepad calmly. She had short tussled shoulder length blonde hair; her choppy fringe obscured her eyes. She hadn't looked up to greet her visitor but merely kept writing. Quinn Fabray - Santana (and Brittany's) old school and glee club friend, the closest thing to a friend Santana had over the past few years especially.

"Sup Q" said Santana chirpily as she grabbed a cigar, lit it and lay down on the comfy sofa, propping up her head on the chair arm and looking at her friend, her employer – technically. The way Quinn sat pompously on her chair and the way Santana was laying down head propped up staring at the ceiling blankly made the whole situation feel, rather ironically, like a counseling session. Santana shook her head at the thought.

Santana could make out a small smile spread across the other woman's lips. Quinn stopped writing, raised her hand and then started clicking the end of her ballpoint pen quickly, as if in thought. She still didn't look up from her work.

"Santana – to what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked nonchalantly.

Santana smirked as she blew out smoke forming little circles in the air. She wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. _I never am. _

"You were great on TV earlier by the way, although you did come across a bit too preachy at one point when talking about family involvement in the education system, I mean…that coupled with your little crucifix, your little precious woolen cardigan and those bright sparkly 'I wouldn't hurt a damn fly' Disney eyes…" Santana said.

Quinn looked up and hazel eyes met brown with a curious look, Quinn played with her crucifix necklace absent-mindedly. Santana continued her onslaught of criticisms.

"Eugh – way too conservative Quinn, seriously people have bullshit detectors you know, I would know – mine's the best" she said as she shrugged, a knowing smirk on her lips, she knew exactly how to get under Quinn's skin.

"Puh-lease, you're so full of it Santana" said Quinn shortly, though for a split second she looked pensive and she still continued to tug at her necklace – which told Santana that Quinn may have thought she had a point, but of course would never admit it.

Santana chuckled and shook her head.

This often made her day; she liked how Quinn and herself worked, they were uncomplicated for the most part. They would argue and banter, tease each other back and forth, occasionally flirt (mostly when drunk at 'Pulse') and they always butted heads because, well, she's Santana and Quinn is Quinn. But ultimately they were like an old married couple Santana thought. Minus the sex. _Well in many ways just like an old married couple then. _Quinn is the only person (besides Brittany) that could match or diffuse Santana in conversation, although Quinn's tactics were noticeably different than Brittany's. Brittany would do or say something often quirky and profound and Santana would be putty in her hand (which scared the shit out of Santana), Quinn on the other hand would take Santana's usual jargon and retort with something twice as sharp.

Santana began to think that maybe blondes weren't her type; they seemed to cause her nothing but trouble. Santana decided to annoy Quinn more, simply because it made her forget her own predicament, but more importantly it entertained the hell out of her.

"You got a boyfriend yet Q? Some might start to think we play on the same team" said Santana as she sat up and stubbed the last remnants of a half-smoked cigar out. Quinn quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Very funny Santana…you know I build my public image around being an independent, successful business woman and definitely heterosexual…"

Santana snorted. Quinn may say she's straight, but Santana always wondered how much room there was for 'flexibility'. The thought amused Santana.

"Y'know Q, you'd actually be my type if you weren't so freakin' unbearable with your self-righteous attitude, the 'holier than thou' air you carry around with you and you're god awful dress sense…seriously you dress like the 60's threw up on you." Santana said, her usual verbal vomit knowing no boundaries.

Quinn swept back her choppy hair and threw Santana her usual death stare.

"Was there a reason you graced me with your lady-like presence today? Or did you just come to insult me?" asked Quinn, her tone unimpressed.

Quinn was never one for raising her voice (in fact as Santana recalled the last time she heard Quinn shout was years ago in this very city, when their glee club was here for Nationals). Quinn's low tone was almost always at the same volume and Quinn was usually calm and collected. Santana would never admit it but Quinn's voice or her presence rather commanded attention and respect at all times, she didn't need to raise her voice to make a point, whenever she spoke the room was sure to listen, this was mostly why Quinn was such a successful media mogul. Yet if Santana was lucky enough to catch her in a good mood, her voice and reasoning soothed her, hence why Santana always came here to allay any concerns she had. Quinn was her voice of reason when her own wouldn't be.

Santana sighed, stood up and began pacing the office.

"We have a problem…" she said awkwardly, pinching the bridge of her nose as she thought of what exactly the problem was. Quinn put her pen down and leaned back in her chair, fingertips tapping succinctly on the armrest. Her eye's seemed to say '_I'm listening'._

"Well I have a problem, but it's sort of our problem" said Santana, trying to backtrack.

"Is this about Brittany?" inquired Quinn, sounding thoroughly uninterested.

Santana stopped pacing and stared her boss.

"How? How could you have _possibly_ known about what I was coming here for? I only ran into Britt last night…" said Santana, taken aback. A barley visible, subtle smile spread across Quinn's lips as she made an amused humming sound. Santana frowned.

"What's so funny?" the Latina demanded. Quinn raised her hands up in defense briefly before bringing them down to rest on the chair arms again.

"Oh nothing…just you…calling her 'Britt' already" she said in a false wistful tone. "Honestly I expected better from you, who knew you were such a sap?" she continued apparently still relishing having Santana under her thumb like this. "As for how I know? _Please_ Santana, remember who you're talking to, information is my business. Plus Puck likes to talk a lot" she said as she began twirling her pen in hand looking at Santana with sternness but also fond amusement. Santana momentarily thought there was something rather teacher-ish about it. Santana slumped down on the chair opposite Quinn and sighed in defeat. She was tired and confused, and there were some things she needed to get off her chest.

"That girls always had you whipped you know" said Quinn blankly.

"I uh…yeah it's true" resigned Santana, her honesty surprising even herself. Quinn looked mildly surprised and a little impressed too.

"Heavens, she must have really said something to you if you're this…quiet. Honestly Santana you're beginning to scare me a little" said Quinn. Santana knew she was being sarcastic but there was a little probe in there too. Santana shrugged.

"She never said or did anything, not really, she just…came out of nowhere and it's sort of knocked me out of sorts - that's all." Santana said as she looked up at Quinn who said nothing in reply.

Quinn and Santana had mutual respect for one another, they could talk about most things but they had over years learned that there were two topics for each of them that should never be brought up unprompted by the other. It was their unspoken rules. For Quinn it was her child Beth that she had given birth too as a teenager, and her high school sweet heart Finn Hudson. For Santana it was the incident where she was shot and _her _high school sweet heart Brittany. Which is why Santana was surprised Quinn had the audacity to bring Brittany up first, it went against their code – normally Santana would go all Lima Heights on her but she didn't have the mental capacity to butt heads with Quinn yet again right now, especially when she needed her advice.

"Our work, our operation" Santana said lowly. "My occupation, the things I do, the people I have to deal with, the miserable non-life I live…" Santana trailed off feeling depressed to the point where she forgot what her initial point was; Quinn however as usual was on par with her thinking.

"You think you'll put her in some sort of danger? Or you think you can't cope juggling everything all at once?" Quinn asked. Santana shrugged but nodded.

"In case you haven't noticed Fabray, I'm not doing so good lately, and I'm barley holding two jobs and our arrangement together as it is-" began Santana her voice uncharacteristically uneven.

"That's ridiculous" Quinn interjected. "We wouldn't have gotten this far without you Santana, we've got to hang in there, it's only a few more months till the election then we can wash our hands of this, or at least you can, you might even get your old job back, promotion and all"

"Hmrph…I doubt that" said Santana dryly, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and instead focused her gaze out the large office windows.

"Speaking of which…have you clocked in any hours at the precinct at all this month?" asked Quinn, leaning her head to the side to try recapture Santana's attention. Santana rolled her eyes.

"You know I'm on sick leave, they've got me doing menial shit…mostly paper work" grumbled Santana as she put an arm onto the desk and rested her head against her palm.

"As long as you still show face in the office, that's all we really need, you not being there would be highly suspect." said Quinn as she leaned back in her chair more comfortably.

"Eugh god Quinn, we have this conversation every freaking time I come here" riled Santana, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms. She didn't come for a lecture. Quinn simply made a dismissive sweeping motion with her hand.

"Just a friendly reminder to do your job" said Quinn neutrally, sweeping away her fringe. She cleared her throat and changed the subject.

"About Brittany…I think it might be good for you to…have an outlet of sorts" said Quinn awkwardly. Santana frowned. She suddenly felt like her parents were having 'the sex' talk with her, at least that's how uncomfortable Quinn suddenly sounded.

"Usually you tell me to stay away from anything with tits, you don't like it when I see a girl on like…more than one occasion" said Santana in confused defiance, wondering why Quinn (who normally told Santana to remain single so relationships wouldn't interfere with their work) has suddenly changed her tune. They didn't discuss each other's love life all that often, mostly because neither had much of one (and when they did have one, neither were all that good at it). Quinn pursed her lips and gave her a sympathetic look.

"I think Brittany's an exception, don't you?" she said empathetically. Santana knew it was a rhetorical question but decided to answer anyway.

"I don't know, is she? What's gotten into you? I came here expecting you to talk me out of seeing her like you normally do, not the god damn opposite" said Santana rather desperately as she stood up and began pacing around the office, almost as if she was expecting something or someone to tell her what to do.

"You've pent up a lot of things in the last year, and to be honest you're a shadow of your former self…" said Quinn quickly, her eyes widened as if she had said something out of line. Santana stopped pacing and looked at her. She dropped her shoulders at the comment. _Well at least I appreciate your honesty Q._

"Look you don't have to be serious with her, you can just be friends" offered Quinn, though even she sounded as if she didn't have any conviction in that suggestion whatsoever. Santana rolled her eyes.

"You know how she is with me, she just…I dunno…does things to me – see what I mean? Look at me. I loose the ability to even formulate words, it's pathetic" said Santana shaking her head in disbelief.

"I think it's cute" said Quinn quietly, looking down at her desk and twiddling her pen.

"It's not cute, it's dangerous and…and god she couldn't have entered my life again at a worse time" cursed Santana, pulling at her leather jacket, needing to take out her anger on something. They fell into an odd silence, Quinn apparently not wanting to suggest anything else lest Santana just get more angry, and Santana knew she herself didn't want to divulge any more because, well, she'd just get more angry. It appears they've reached an impasse. Santana began pacing again for no good reason; she just loved to walk, even around a room.

"I said I'd take her to Breadstix later" said Santana wearily, breaking the silence, not sure why she was even telling her this. Quinn looked up in surprise.

"But you never take girls out…well…good, remember have fun – remember what fun is?" she said halfheartedly. Santana sighed. _Barely. _

"Last time I had fun, the last time I properly had fun, was a few years ago where you, me, Britt's and the rest of the Glee club took that road trip down route 66, remember?" said Santana, finding a smirk form across her face. Quinn smiled a little and nodded in acknowledgement.

"Same here, those were the days…" said Quinn fondly but sadly, her eyes suddenly appearing less glassy.

"Maybe we should all hook up and do it again sometime…even Berry" said Santana half chuckling, hardly believing the words leaving her mouth, this was the first time in a long time she was discussing things that weren't alcohol, stripping or other work related. Quinn seemed to notice this too.

"Brittany's turned you soft already" said Quinn teasingly, biting her bottom lip.

Santana scoffed defiantly. _Maybe. _

Quinn looked at her watch, then to Santana.

"I have tomorrows newspapers to edit, then the rest of Senator Karofsky's speech to write…and you have a date, maybe we should raincheck?"

"It's not a date" said Santana flatly, not sure who she was trying to convince. She headed toward the door sensing that their meeting had come to an end, Santana never really got the advice or answers she was hoping for, but she nevertheless felt slightly better about things. She heard Quinn click her fingers, so spun around.

"Just remember, you don't have to tell her anything, just…do small talk, and smile" said Quinn smirking. The first part was legitimate advice, the second part was just mockery.

"I'll be sure to remember that" smiled Santana sweetly, although it dropped in almost an instant. "Thanks, you've somehow managed to clear my head a bit…but I don't care how drunk you get me or how nice you are to me, I still think you're a glassy, cold-hearted, ice-queen bitch." said Santana shrugging a shoulder and giving her best smirk. Quinn merely raised her eyebrows looking entirely uninspired, and then went back to writing her paperwork.

"Takes one to know one" she said simply, not bothering to reaffirm this statement by making eye contact.

Santana turned around and left the office shaking her head in amusement. _Touché. _

**/**

Brittany, back in Santana's flat, was now wandering around the living room, occasionally eying the PDF Puck left, and wrangled with her curiosity to not give in and look at whatever was on it. Deciding she needed a distraction she went back into Santana's bedroom and re-applied her make up. She looked in the mirror and grinned. Santana had always liked when she wore denim shorts, especially the ones with the suspenders attached, she unbuttoned the first top two buttons on her cream blouse showing a little cleavage. Modesty was never her thing. Though Brittany began to wonder if any of that counted anymore. _Maybe she's a completely different person now. Maybe she doesn't like suspenders or breadsticks or Jazz music anymore. _Brittany decided then that maybe Santana hadn't changed at all, maybe she just needed reminding of who she is – and it's always been Brittany's moral obligation to take up such a task, for as long as she could remember it had always been the case. She helps Santana and Santana would help her; it's how they always worked. A few years apart wouldn't change that. _Right?_

**/**

Santana climbed the last flight of stairs, walked to her apartment number, unlocked the door and stepped inside to an empty living room. She looked around the kitchen and living room for Brittany but couldn't see her; she noticed that Brittany did indeed stay to receive the PDF that Kingsley brought over. Santana wondered how that meeting would have gone down. Santana peered around the hallway corridor and made her way to the bedroom figuring the blonde had to be hiding away somewhere in there.

She opened the door slowly to find Brittany lying on her stomach spread across her bed humming a tune away innocently. Santana couldn't help but smile a little. Her amusement came to an abrupt end when she realized that Brittany was wearing impossibly short shorts that from this angle Santana could almost see her ass, she also was donning her suspenders/blouse combination, which always was deadly to Santana. They hadn't even said a word and already Santana was blushing. _Typical. _

"Uh…Brittany?" said Santana, her voice suddenly sounding a little shaky.

Brittany whipped around mouth agape in fright but then her features formed into a happy beam. She clumsily got up and stumbled out of the bed toward Santana. She came to a stop in front of the Latina and puffed out a breath of air to blow away some of her blonde hair that fell in front of her face.

"I'm starving…can we go now?" she asked, almost sounding like a child in the backseat of a car asking their parents if 'they were there yet'. Santana subconsciously rubbed her palm over her heart, as if forcing it to be steady.

"Yeah, you look…" Santana began and suddenly realized she was staring at Brittany's chest. "great" she finished eventually, looking back up and making contact with bright blue eyes. Brittany giggled a little.

"You like em'?" she asked, grabbing both suspender belts stretching them out, then letting them snap back into place. Santana skewed her mouth when they snapped back into place against her chest.

"Cute." Santana said shortly, not trusting her own mouth to disclose any more observations than that.

"I know right? So…are we going handsome?" asked Brittany airily, motioning her head toward the door.

Santana's throat went a little dry, a few minutes and already this night was torture. Her brain was sending her mouth a thousand and one things to say but nothing was coming out. Santana didn't like cute, she had a large damn chip on her shoulder and she would have knocked someone out if they ever called her 'handsome', yet the way Brittany says these things rendered her mute. _Pull it together Lopez. Don't get sucked in by her all over again. Its just dinner. Nothing has to happen and nothing has to be said. _Santana nodded enthusiastically more to her own thoughts than the question.

"C'mon then, though if you ever call me that again I'll cut your tongue out and feed it to the stray cat across the street." Santana said sassily as they exited through the living room and out to the hallway, Santana turning back to re-lock the apartment.

"Pfft, c'mon Santana we both know you'd never cut out my tongue, I mean, how would we ever…" said Brittany lowly, a mischievous glint in her eye. Santana leaned against the door and narrowed her eyes, refusing to take the bait.

"Have conversations?" offered Brittany. They both grinned at the other.

They began descending the apartment stairs and Brittany (before Santana could refuse) linked her arm in hers and squeezed it a little. Santana looked to the side but Brittany was merely looking down at her feet as they stepped down another flight of stairs.

"You know we'd still be able to have conversations if you didn't have a tongue" Santana stated, not even knowing why she was continuing this ridiculous conversation. They both reached the ground level and stepped out to a cool evening air. They both stopped outside the building as Santana pointed with her keys toward which car was hers. Brittany gave her a confused look.

"How so?" she asked, frowning. Santana mentally cursed herself for saying such a stupid thing, but she decided to follow through with logic anyway.

"I don't know…people use sign language don't they?" said Santana as she shrugged lamely. Brittany, arm still intertwined with Santana's patted her arm.

"So what you're saying is that we can still have awesome _conversations_, no matter if I use my tongue or my fingers...that's good to know for future reference I guess" stated Brittany pragmatically patting her arm once again as they broke apart, Brittany heading toward the passenger side of the car.

Santana stopped in front of her car as her eyes widened. Brittany had just managed to turn a directionless, pointless conversation into one giant sexual innuendo and Santana walked straight into it. Santana unlocked the car looked up at Brittany who was merely smiling away at the sky; Santana wondered if she realized what she had said. As if this thought had been out loud, Brittany's gaze lowered and blue eyes locked with brown. _Yep, she knew. _

"Just get in" Santana huffed as Brittany complied giggling.

Santana opened the car door but didn't enter - she stood for a moment longer trying to think of any excuse to not go ahead with this evenings plans, she half hoped her car would break down or Brittany would suddenly change her mind.

"Are you driving us there or what handsome?" came Brittany's voice, her tone laced with flirtatiousness but also overconfidence that rubbed Santana the wrong way.

Santana grunted and rolled her eyes. _This is going to be a long night._


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Holy crap this chapter is long. :o This could have been split into 2, but it wouldn't have really made sense. Enjoy, please keep the reviews coming. :)**

The short car ride over to 'Breadstix' had been pretty uneventful, most of it was spent in silence and Santana out from the corner of her eye noticed Brittany try to get her attention several times but chose to ignore her. Brittany eventually resigned to this fact and sang along (rather loudly) to the radio, much to Santana's annoyance – she herself hadn't turned on her car radio in years, she was surprised it was still working. Santana didn't care either way; she no longer found her escapism in music.

The restaurant was small, cozy and almost full. The clink clanking of forks on plates and glasses on tables were drowned in amongst chatter and laughter. Italianesque music played lowly in the background. The waitron had shown them to their table (the second last one available), it was a corner leather seating area in the shape of a 'C' with a small table situated in the middle. Santana made sure to sit completely opposite Brittany, making sure the blonde understood she wanted her personal space. The looks Brittany had been throwing her on the car ride over here had made her uneasy, she wasn't sure wither they fell under lust, love or the 'I can see into your soul and know all your secrets' kind of look. _Maybe a giant, terrifying combination of all three_. Still, Santana had to accept that not only did she feel like she's somehow being chased, but now she was, quite literally, cornered.

Santana has seen some things in her life, she used to be heavily involved in fighting narcotics related crime when she got a rather fast-tracked promotion to Detective Inspector back when she was an active member of the police force a year ago, but now apparently nothing is as frightening as the blissfully unaware blonde now sitting down across from her. Santana could already feel a headache coming on, and the faint familiar pain in her shoulder. They both placed their orders with the waiter.

"And what will you be having to drink?" came a delicate voice from the dark-haired man.

"Just water" said Santana rubbing her temple.

"Same" came Brittany's voice chirpily as she handed her menu to the man. Santana waited until the he left with a polite nod, before talking.

"You could drink if you wanted to, I'm the designated driver" said Santana trying to be polite. Brittany chuckled and began playing with a lock of her blonde hair distractingly.

"Unless you _want_ to get me drunk, I really had no intentions of drinking tonight" said Brittany simply. Santana frowned a little.

"Why's that?" she found herself asking.

"Uh maybe because I have a class tomorrow…orrrr…that I actually want to spend time in your company and remember it?" she said smiling. Santana gave a low laugh.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that" Santana said meekly.

Their meals arrived and Santana soon found herself staring contently at the blonde, who would suck spaghetti into her mouth with a rather adorable concentrated look on her face, and Santana couldn't lie – her heart fluttered a little. _It's just old feelings being dragged up. Nothing new. _Santana thought back to when Brittany would nudge meatballs across her plate with her nose and reenact various scenes from any given Disney film that involved animals of any kind. Santana snorted at the thought. Brittany looked up and smiled at her in confusion.

"What?" Brittany asked bemused, but verging on laughing herself.

"Nothing's it's just…" she began but found herself yet again at a loss for words. She paused then put her fork down on her plate. "You haven't changed a bit." she finished, trying to sound as indifferent as she could.

"Why? Was I supposed to?" asked Brittany confused, looking down scanning herself as if there was a physical element to Santana's statement. Santana yet again found herself trying to suppress her laughter.

"Are you mocking me or something?" Brittany asked lowly, pouting a little.

"No, you just proved my point is all…" said Santana, the grin from her face not fading despite her actively trying to stop smiling. She reached for her drink.

"OK this conversation is confusing for me, I'm just gonna change the subject – who are you screwing?" asked Brittany candidly.

Santana almost choked on her water.

"Excuse me?" she asked swallowing hard, even though she had heard perfectly well. Santana patted her chest to make sure everything was going down the right way.

"_Screwing_" reiterated Brittany with more emphasis. "As in sex…as in what are you doing for sex?" she asked rather bluntly.

Santana winced a little; she had somewhat forgotten at how forward Brittany was at times, she seemed to have little self-awareness – another trait that Santana would normally hate in people but tolerated, if not even _liked_ in Brittany.

"I'm not seeing anyone if that's what you're asking" said Santana flatly, staring into inquisitive blue eyes.

"Oh…" said Brittany sounding vaguely dissatisfied.

"Hold up, you sound…disappointed" said Santana awkwardly, twiddling her pasta around her fork absentmindedly. Brittany shook her head.

"No, no…not disappointed just…that makes me a sad little panda, you're all up on that stage like being totally sexy and _nobody_ is tapping that…such a waste…" she said with contemplative sigh.

"I never said I don't have sex, I just don't do relationships" stated Santana categorically, stabbing her fork at her meal. "Besides…other chicks totally dig me, cause hello? Uh…have you seen me? Oh and also apparently I have 'bravado' or 'charm' or some shit like that and it makes me irresistible for some reason " said Santana boastfully raising her eyebrows and using her fingers for air quotations on the words 'bravado' and 'charm'. It was however the truth, women (and often the rejected men) were always drawn to her, Santana wasn't quite sure why, she wasn't the most sociable of human beings and she often scowled at people if they even looked at her.

"But uh…" Santana continued, her bravado faltering. "Yeah I don't do relationships, not anymore…not since…there was one girl I saw for about three months last year but that didn't work out, you're pretty much the only one I've ever had a serious relationship with" said Santana simply, feeling no need to lie about it, nor surprisingly feeling any awkwardness talking about it. "I don't do feelings, at least not anymore, I know what I'm good at – and I don't need anyone to 'save' me or some bullshit" stated Santana sweeping her hand dismissively in the air, she never said this harshly, but more matter-of-factly.

Brittany looked up from her plate and gave her a sympathetic tilt of the head. Santana hated that look, or rather she hated what that look did to her, it was the look Brittany had always given her and it always gave Santana the creeping, uncomfortable feeling that Brittany knew Santana better than she knew herself. That Brittany somehow always knew more than she let on, and that she perhaps understood Santana beyond mere words, that she understood more than anyone that Santana often hid behind her words.

It was the exact same look Brittany would give her when she used to tell her she couldn't come to her sleepovers because she had a "date" with Puck, it was the same look she gave her when Santana told her she was dating a boy named Sam in their school, the same look she would give her when Santana would tell her she doesn't care what her mother thinks, the same look Brittany would give her when she got mad on their road trip for running out of fuel and Santana in anger said she hated the Glee club and everyone in it - it was even the same look she gave her when Santana first told Brittany she loved her. It was just a specific look and Santana hated it. That Brittany could see right trough her facade even after all this time, even now it seemed like Brittany didn't miss a step with her, like it was almost in her nature to second-guess everything Santana says.

Santana sighed then rocked her head from left to right slowly on the back of the leather seat. She didn't really want to hear the possible answer but she had to ask anyway, if only to sate her curiosity.

"So when are you and what's-his-name getting married, squeezing out 2.4 kids, putting a deposit down, paying the mortgage…all that jazz" asked Santana doing a little jazz hand motion, trying to sound thoroughly disinterested. Brittany raised a curious eyebrow. _Of course she would see right through that._

"Chris? Well uh, we've been seeing each other for over a year but…" began Brittany as she gave a slight giggle before tapping her index finger against her lips playfully "I think you have the wrong stick end".

"I think you mean 'wrong end of the stick'" interjected Santana caught between amusement and incredulity.

"Whatever" said Brittany, shaking her head dismissively "we were exclusive for about 3 months and we moved in together right away cause of the business mostly, but we did nothing but argue over really random stuff, we do run a business together so y'know creative differences and all that, but now we live separately but he stays over at mine sometimes, cause like my place is closer to work" said Brittany perkily. Santana frowned. _That doesn't sound like the happiest of relationships_. Though she wasn't really one to judge since her love life consisted of sleeping with strippers from 'Pulse' on rotation, normally too stoned or drunk to remember. Santana mulled over Brittany's words and came to a realization.

"Wait…you said you _were _exclusive? What do you mean?" asked Santana, clutching at her collarbone in anticipation for the answer. Brittany gave her an amused look.

"Geez, I'm supposed to be the slow one handsome" said Brittany flirtatiously, making no effort to masquerade her wondering eyes. Santana rolled her own at her.

"Eyes are up here…and I told you stop calling me that" said Santana shortly crossing her arms.

"Please Santana, like _you_ could ever tell _me_ what to do" chuckled the blonde; to add insult to injury she even winked at the Latina.

Santana scowled and opened her mouth to retort with something, but slowly closed it again. She honestly didn't really have an answer to that one. Now Santana's mood was alternating between humiliation, adulation and being a little pissed off.

"So _anyway_…" she pressed on. "You're in an…open relationship of sorts?" asked Santana uncertainly. Brittany pushed her plate away and leaned back, mirroring Santana's posture. She just nodded once, a small simple smile on her face.

"Doesn't that bother you?" asked Santana curiously; fully aware that it was none of her business but thought it a fair question after Brittany had questioned her similarly.

"No, why should it? It works for us" said Brittany, though Santana knew her too well and noticed the vacant look in her eyes and her smile fade a little. Before Santana could stop herself, she began rambling.

"It's just if I were your…" Santana trailed and motioned her head hoping Brittany would understand so she wouldn't have to finish the sentence out loud. She looked across at Brittany who was now smiling at her with piqued interest. "I mean, no way…I just couldn't, I don't think I could like…you know…share you or anything" continued Santana fumbling over her words. Brittany was now rolling her tongue across her top lip, a smirk across her face. Santana sighed and began cracking her finger knuckles irritably. "Hypothetically speaking that is" she mumbled.

Brittany was now blushing a little and as she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ears, Santana noticed the long familiar redness spread to her ears too. The blonde now looked down, playing with her suspender strap bashfully.

"Thanks Santana, you're so sweet but really it's fine, I'm OK with my relationship arrangement" she mumbled, still not looking up.

"As long as you're happy" Santana uttered out quietly before she could stop herself. _Shut up you moron._

"Well I kind of already told you I wasn't all that happy last night, but I can't complain too much, and thanks for caring…or at least pretending to," said Brittany, looking up eventually and giving her a warm smile.

Turned out that conversation worked as an icebreaker of sorts, because the rest of the evening went swimmingly well in Santana's opinion. As they shared ice cream, coffee and mints for desert they laughed so much as they exchanged old memories. In fact Santana hadn't laughed this hard in so long she occasionally double-checked that she was indeed drinking coffee and not alcohol – which tended to make her incredibly giddy or weepy. They even earned disapproving looks from an old couple sitting across the way from them who clearly did not appreciate their volume. Santana's reply to them was "this isn't a freakin' library" followed by a friendly gesture involving her middle finger. Brittany laughed but then gave her leg a condemning kick under the table. Santana merely shot the couple a halfhearted apologetic look. She didn't want to get kicked out; she hadn't gone through that experience since she was seventeen. Santana was surprised at how quickly and easily conversations flowed and how both of them seemed to suddenly work in tandem with each other again, much to Santana's mortification they even occasionally finished each other's sentences.

Maybe Quinn was right after all Santana thought; maybe they could be friends, and Santana would finally have someone to spend time with that wasn't involved in her work in any way. Santana wasn't quite sure when or how it happened but they both went from sitting across from each other, and somewhere along the course of the evening had both scooted in toward each other and met in the middle of the leather seating, both leaning on their sides facing the other. It was somewhat uncomfortable but Santana didn't mind. Brittany ate some of her ice cream and quickly gulped her steaming mug of hot coffee.

"Brain freeze" she squealed, her head shuddering.

"I told you not to do that" said Santana amused, drinking her own coffee.

"I thought it would be different this time" said Brittany sulkily as she pouted slightly. Santana shook her head.

"Plus I thought we like…already discussed this, you tell me what to do and I completely ignore you, isn't that how we work?" asked Brittany sticking her tongue out slightly. Santana sighed, she knew what the blonde was doing, fishing for an argument or another exchange where Santana would screw up her words and Brittany would pounce on them, twisting their meaning to suit her agenda. Whatever that actually was, and here Santana thought _she_ was the manipulative one between them.

"I'm not biting" said Santana simply, giving her a wry smile.

"Shame" shrugged the blonde.

Santana set her coffee down and rested her arm on the upper part of the seating.

"So you have to come see Rachel on Broadway with me, or…well us, Chris is a bit of a fanboy of Rachel's – but Rachel always sends me free tickets, they're normally really good ones" said Brittany enthusiastically. Santana gave an unimpressed look.

"Fine" she said shortly "but if you're bringing a date then so can I"

Brittany's look of delight at her agreeing to come, immediately fell into a bemused but intrigued look. Santana smirked.

"Uh…who are you gonna bring?" asked Brittany, her voice sounding a little milder as she scratched her forehead.

"Quinn" said Santana simply.

"Quinn? As in Quinn? Fabray? You're still friends with her? Why didn't you say anything when we were watching her on TV earlier? She's like kinda famous now, well a little, I mean she's on TV that counts as something, I lost contact with her when you and I…" Brittany stopped and made eye contact. Santana nodded in understanding. When Brittany moved away to New York, Santana and Quinn didn't immediately follow suit, naturally Brittany grew apart from them, Quinn had always been slightly closer to Santana than she was to Brittany anyway. Equally as screwed up – or at least that's what Santana constantly reminded Quinn was the basis of their friendship, much to Quinn's annoyance.

"Unholy trinity reunion then?" said Santana trying to sound semi enthused, not wanting to steer conversation down past memories.

"Yay" said Brittany as she bounced up and down on her seat, clapping her hands quietly.

"I'm stuffed" said Santana rubbing her belly. Brittany nodded in agreement, throwing her spoon at the rest of her ice cream in defeat.

"When are you next working?" asked the blonde suddenly. Santana looked to her side slightly and saw that Brittany was looking at her with renewed interest, her eyes flickering slightly, piercing into her own, even though Santana didn't know what it was, there was something else behind this question.

"Tomorrow night, why?" asked Santana, wondering where this was going.

"I wanna come and see you again…" said Brittany quietly as she slid a hand slowly along the leather seating to just behind Santana's back and leaned in closer. Santana was now having an internal battle with herself wither to lean in closer and close the gap or run the hell out of the restaurant in the opposite direction, she settled for neither and chose to remain still as she registered what Brittany said. It didn't settle well with her.

"Nuh uh…I meant what I said last night, that place is dangerous, I don't want you in there. At all." stated Santana with finality, although she felt it was ultimately futile, Brittany was curious by nature – telling her not to do something was just asking her to do it.

"But I want to, I thought you were amazing" said Brittany rather dreamily as she retreated her hand.

"Of course I was, my tits are spectacular and I'm flattered…really…but it's just a stripper joint that a lot of bad crowds gather in, it aint no performing theatre act or dance troupe or whatever pedestal you've put me on – I'm just your average stripper hoe…well technically I don't strip, I lap dance…but you get the point" Santana stated trying to erase the glowing look Brittany was currently giving her, but it was no use, she looked utterly besotted. _Is she even listening to me?_

"_Fine_…but I'll get Quinn to meet you there, I don't want you wondering around alone, especially considering where you wondered last night" resigned Santana with an exasperated sigh, already regretting this plan, but at least this way she wouldn't have to worry about her. _Not that I'd worry._ Brittany practically bounced on up and down on the seat.

"Awesome, then the three of us can hang out, right?" asked Brittany with an almost child-like expression on her face.

"I guess you can join in what we normally do in Pulse after my shift ends" said Santana suggestively, her lips forming into a smirk as she sipped her coffee.

Santana peered up from the rim of her cup and saw the color had faded a little from Brittany's face, Santana could tell she was contemplating just what that might be. Santana knew what her mind probably first went to but didn't bother to correct her, if Brittany was going to keep laying on all this pressure and make suggestive comments, the least Santana could do was give it back as good as she gets. Again, in typical Brittany fashion, the blonde went off in another tangent and shifted the conversation to something else entirely.

"Can…can I ask you something?" she asked, her tone suddenly tentative as she leaned back in closer and placed her hand upon Santana's thigh, just above her knee.

Santana's eyes darted between her hand and Brittany's brilliantly blue eyes. She could feel her skin burn by her touch even through the material of her jeans.

"Depends…" Santana heard herself say as she shifted uncomfortably on the seat; Brittany had started stroking her thumb back and forth down to the inside of her thigh and back up again. Santana's leg felt numb, as did her brain.

"Don't get mad or anything" said Brittany, her voice still small and tentative, Santana had to just lean forward a little to hear her, maybe that was her intention.

"Britt, if you start a sentence with 'don't get mad', chances are I'll get mad" said Santana frankly, trying her best to shoot her a smile. Brittany inclined her head.

"Well…I saw the medication your on, y'know, the bottle you left on the kitchen counter? I didn't mean to pry honest…I…I just, I'm worried, are you OK?" she asked, squeezing Santana's leg tenderly.

Santana felt her blood boil, her heart started beating faster and with that brought the usual pain in her shoulder; she rubbed it subconsciously as she tried to let her anger go, she really didn't want to start mouthing off at Brittany of all people, not when she was only trying to be nice. Besides she didn't think Brittany had been deliberately snooping, Santana was stupid enough not to put them away in her medicine cupboard. Santana exhaled.

"I appreciate the concern but I'm fine" said Santana shortly. _Actually you're not. _"Also, can you like stop doing that" she snapped looking down at Brittany's hand that was still rubbing her leg gently. "Please…it's super distracting" added Santana quietly, trying to take the harshness out from her initial response.

Brittany retracted her hand but never broke eye contact, her eyes were wide with concern but were also strangely calming, and just with that look the storm inside Santana settled. Santana's heart felt a little heavier when she realized what Brittany had asked. Nobody (aside from Quinn maybe) has asked if she's OK in a long time. _A really long time_.

"I'm fine really" said Santana giving her a pouty smile, oddly enough this conversation turned into Santana trying to cheer Brittany up, a rather strange turn of events Santana thought. Brittany gave a small smile and nodded. Santana could tell she wasn't completely satisfied with that reassurance but she honestly didn't want to burden Brittany with any of her problems. _There's too many of them. _

"What happened to our 'answer all questions honestly' policy?" asked Brittany enquiringly.

"I do believe it was we get to ask 10 questions, and I'm pretty sure you've used them all up" said Santana cockily. "Besides that was a stupid game…" she continued.

"You're mean sometimes…" huffed Brittany. Santana just shrugged.

"You know it…c'mon it's time I drove you home, you've got work tomorrow, remember?" said Santana as she insisted on paying the bill for dinner.

"Fine, but I'll pay for our next one" countered Brittany. Santana raised an eyebrow. _Next one?_

They both stepped out into a surprisingly chilly night air and made their way over to the restaurant parking lot. Santana walked briskly swinging her keys around her finger casually, when she didn't feel the warmth from Brittany walking alongside her she turned around to find Brittany still rooted to the spot just outside the main entrance.

"Brittany, are you coming or what?" hissed Santana impatiently. The dancer merely stood there, it was hard to make out her facial expression, as Santana was quite a bit away. Santana jogged back to her and gave her a dubious look.

"Uh…you needs me to hold your hand or something Britt?" asked Santana sarcastically.

"That would be nice" hummed Brittany, a complacent smile on her face. Santana rolled her eyes. "It's just really cold out…it sorta froze my brain there, then my legs weren't really listening to my brain, they were too busy arguing with my elbows" stated Brittany vacantly as she rubbed them, shivering in the cold air. Santana put the back of her hand up to her mouth to stifle a laugh. She grabbed Brittany's arm and forced her forward as they both headed toward the car. The worst part was (or maybe the best part) – Santana kind of understood what Brittany was trying to say.

"Maybe you should have worn more clothes" stated Santana, eyeing Brittany's very short shorts and her unbuttoned blouse. Brittany relinked her arm with Santana's.

"But I always dress this way" whined Brittany, jutting out her jaw.

"I know…I remember" sighed Santana amused as they reached the car, Santana clicked the button to unlock it. Brittany unlinked her arm but suddenly grabbed Santana's and whirled her around to face her.

"Do you wanna fuck me?" asked Brittany nonchalantly. Santana almost laughed, she sounded as if she could have just as easily been inquiring about the weather. She also found it amusing to hear Brittany swear, she wasn't normally the type unless engaged in certain circumstances. Santana's mind wondered then she realized Brittany was looking at her with an inquisitive but serious expression on her face.

Santana's stomach flipped a little. _Is she serious? Does she really want me to answer that?_ Brittany continued to gaze at her as she began biting her nails. _Apparently so._

"Uh…" Santana began, not knowing how to even respond. _Yes? No? Maybe? Not now? Right now? _She honestly didn't know and was too afraid to think about what it would mean. She didn't want to hurt her feelings and say 'no', besides it wasn't exactly the truth but she didn't want to lead her on either by saying 'yes', because a relationship right now is the last thing Santana needs. Besides, did Brittany think that they could revert easily back to what they were 3 almost 4 years ago? Santana had changed in that time, for better or worse, she thought she had moved on and Brittany had too...or so Santana thought.

Brittany began bouncing up and down impatiently on the spot, alternating her feet every few steps, apparently anticipating an answer. Santana momentarily thought she looked like a child awaiting permission to go outside and play. Brittany seemed to sense Santana's internal argument with herself so pushed Santana gently against the car and placed a hand on each side of her head and leaned in slightly.

"It's a simple enough question" said the blonde smirking seductively.

Santana was suddenly very aware of the lack of personal space. Brittany's eyes looked considerably less blue and a shade darker than usual. _Or maybe it's just this moonlight. _Santana reminded herself she was good at this, if there was two things she excelled at in life it was her powers of seduction and her expertise in deflection, so feeling thoroughly fed up with having her back to the wall (rather literally in this case) she decided to play Brittany at her own game.

She grasped both of Brittany's suspenders and pulled her in, she deliberately bypassed her lips and cheek slowly and instead brought the blonde slightly down to her height so that her mouth was lingering beside the blonde's ear.

"Sí pero no quiere decir yo que llegar a" Santana whispered raspingly into her ear. Santana smirked as she watched goosebumps trail down Brittany's neck down to her left forearm, she could have sworn the blonde shuddered a little too.

"What…what does that mean?" Brittany whispered back into Santana's ear, her tone noticeably nowhere near as boastful or confident. Santana let go and leaned back into the car, she sighed as she folded her arms across her chest and gave Brittany a contemplative look. She had planned on leaving Brittany hanging with that answer, but Brittany was now gazing at her with curious blue eyes and she couldn't bring herself to deliberately confuse her.

"It means yes…but…it doesn't mean I get to" said Santana solemnly as she tilted her head to the side.

Brittany retreated her arms and put her hands in her short pockets. Her head lowered as she stared at her own feet kicking away some gravel on the ground. Santana wasn't quite sure what Brittany was thinking but she nonetheless felt a pang of guilt, if only she could explain to Brittany just why she can't.

"C'mon you need to show me the route back to your place" said Santana opening the car door for her, desperately wanting this night to be over. Being in Brittany's company was both excruciatingly painful and utterly bliss at the same time, and Santana didn't have time for these feelings or emotions, she had done a good job of separating them from her post-Brittany life in recent years. Brittany nodded then got in the car. Santana walked round to the other side and got in too. As she shut the door she looked to Brittany for a second, who was simply gazing forward, she had suddenly become rather quiet and it was making Santana both anxious and uncomfortable.

Santana put the key in the ignition and turned it a few times. Her car engine made a few screechy noises before stalling then dying. Santana tried revving the engine turning the key frantically once again, but to no avail – her car wouldn't start. Santana mentally slapped herself for her early treacherous thoughts of wanting her car to break down so she didn't have to go out with Brittany.

"You have _got _to be kidding me" said Santana bitterly, turning the key yet again. She could feel Brittany's eyes on her but didn't even want to chance a glance in her direction.

"This is so damn typical, it's a fucking cliché – no me gusta" said Santana through gritted teeth, feeling herself getting angrier as she hit the steering wheel with the palm of her hand.

"C'mon start you piece of shit engine…Dios por qué me?" Santana lamented, now turning the key harshly with such force she could easily snap it in half.

Suddenly a hand clasped around her wrist, stilling her futile attempts. Santana had almost forgotten Brittany was here. The Latina slumped her head down to rest on the steering wheel, her forehead thudding against the material. Santana was abruptly aware that she could feel a lot of tension in the air; they were stuck for now in this car, alone. Santana didn't move her hand as Brittany's thumb began slowly massaging the outer part of her wrist making small circular patterns, a similar motion to earlier, and Santana had no choice but to raise her head and look over at Brittany.

"You're panicking" said Brittany softly, her eyes glaring into Santana's. Brittany withdrew her hand and continued to stare at Santana with a look of intrigued observation, almost like she was waiting for Santana to say or do something specific. Santana couldn't really bear looking at those eyes so refocused her efforts. She withdrew the key, put it back in and turned them. The engine sprang to life as the headlights came on. Relief washed over every inch of Santana's body. _Thank you._ She sat back in the seat relieved.

Without warning or before Santana could even register a response Brittany climbed, rather gracefully, over to Santana's seat and placed one thigh in-between Santana's legs and the other on the outside so Brittany was sitting on, straddling her leg. Santana gulped thickly.

"Uh…w-what are you doing?" she asked her voice sounding rather small and croaky. _This isn't happening._

Brittany never answered. Now that their faces were inches apart Santana gazed up into and searched sapphire blue eyes that were conveying something between lust, empathy and sadness – although Santana wasn't quite sure, it had either been too long since they were this close to each other or Brittany had become harder to read in Santana's absence. They used to be able to have silent conversations, always knowing how the other was feeling or what they were thinking – Brittany seemed to already be in sync with Santana but Santana on the other hand couldn't quite gauge the blonde as well as she used too, and this gave Brittany an unfair advantage. Santana momentarily thought back to her old cheerleading coach's speech at a funeral once and her words echoed around in her mind…_being tethered to someone. But what if the tether breaks or fades over time?_ Silence still surrounded them as Brittany continued to stare Santana down. Santana felt the familiar flutter at the pit of her stomach as she just wanted the earth to swallow her whole, she needed to be away from here, and far away from Brittany.

Brittany shifted in closer to Santana's pelvis, her breathing hitched slightly. Santana briefly glanced down, now realizing that Brittany's core was pressing down onto her, with only shorts and Santana's jeans separating their skin from each others, two measly layers. Santana felt her skin burn and her conviction falter for a second. She shifted her eyes everywhere but eventually came back to the other pair looking back at her, it was either that or let her eyes fall to Brittany's boobs that were frankly more on par with Santana's eye-level than Brittany's eyes were at the moment. Santana thought she deserved a medal for simply maintaining eye-contact.

Without looking away from Santana, Brittany leaned back against the wheel, twisted an arm behind her back, and turned the key in the ignition casually; now without the hum of the engine they fell into a new, more intense silence. Santana could hear her own heart pound against her ribcage - perhaps Brittany could too. Brittany however still said nothing, almost like she was goading Santana, waiting for her to make the first move – Santana was stubborn enough to know that wasn't going to happen. _Besides this is a terrible idea. _

"I just managed to get the car running…" stated Santana bluntly looking up at the blonde completely lost in her eyes, it was the only thing she could think of to say.

"So?" Brittany said simply, now running a hand soothingly through Santana's charcoal hair, her scalp tingling in response to the touch of light fingertips. Brittany then reached under Santana's leather jacket and ran the same hand down the side of Santana's torso tickling her side and tracing the contours of her ribcage lightly with her fingers. By natural reflex Santana arched into her touch instinctively.

"So…we can't do this…" breathed Santana almost pleading the blonde to stop before she even started, sensing that she no longer had control over her own body, her head was screaming at her to push Brittany away – her heart and libido simply weren't listening.

"What're you so afraid off?" asked Brittany quietly but confrontationally, placing both hands on Santana's shoulders.

_You._

"Who says I'm afraid-"

"Me. I can see it in your eyes" interjected Brittany, as if this observation was not negotiable. Santana scoffed rolling her eyes and fixated her stare out the window. _Scared of what? What does she know anyway? _Brittany patted Santana's shoulders to regain her focus on her. She then leaned in so her lips where ghosting Santana's once more, in fact they had been in this exact positioning last night at the club.

"This is a bad idea" whispered Santana inches from Brittany's lips, she was already entranced by lustful blue eyes and the long familiar smell of Brittany's shampoo. Her hands were sitting limply at her sides, unsure what to do with them.

"Very bad…" Brittany murmured back as she wrapped her arms around Santana's neck and closed the gap.

Brittany's soft lips pressed against hers firmly and Santana felt her whole body respond, like suddenly an old flame deep inside her had been reignited and lit her entire body on fire. Brittany pulled back ever so slightly.

"Open up baby" she whispered against Santana's lips, nudging her nose coyly against Santana's. Alarm bells started ringing in Santana's head, and honestly she wondered why they didn't ring sooner, because that command shot straight to her core and Santana suddenly felt how throbbing and wet she was between her legs, and when Santana got horny she got mouthy – in more ways than one.

"On one condition…we're not together anymore, you don't get to call me that" she husked against Brittany's lips.

"Mhmm-mhm" hummed Brittany against Santana's skin, as she had trailed soft kisses away from Santana's lips and up to her cheek. Santana shut her eyes momentarily enjoying the sensation. The blonde then pressed her lips against Santana's once more, trying to pry them open.

"Or handsome" said Santana firmly, pulling away.

"_Fine_" sighed Brittany impatiently against Santana's lips.

Santana let go of her reservations and suddenly clasped a hand around the back of Brittany's neck and her other around her waist, pulling the blonde in even closer. She then startled Brittany by quickly pressing her lips firmly against the blondes; tongue snaking out immediately seeking entrance. Brittany's jaw slackened and her lips parted easily. Their tongues immediately clashed and began to dance lazily around each other. She tasted like coffee and mints but with the usual taste of her cherry lip smackers and suddenly Santana felt a wave of familiarity wash over her. As if falling into old habits she began kissing Brittany just the way she knew the blonde liked without consciously thinking about it, almost like she knew instinctively what to do, like her tongue had a memory of its own. Santana despite herself, loved the little noises of approval Brittany made when she ran her tongue playfully under Brittany's or when she forced her head closer to deepen the kiss. Santana felt her whole body buzz, and a long familiar fluttering feeling in the pit of her stomach, she felt like she was going to faint. _Can people faint sitting down? _That's when Santana knew she was thinking too much, so she tried to clear her mind and silence the one hundred alarm bells that were now ringing in her head.

As Santana's tongue tickled the roof of Brittany's mouth then slid slowly along her tongue, she began rubbing her hand up and down Brittany's back, clutching and balling the material of her thin blouse, desperate fore more. It was becoming increasingly heated, wet and sloppy as Santana felt Brittany begin to slowly grind into her lap. _Don't let her cross the line. _Santana placed a hand on Brittany's waist to steady her then with her other hand clutched the hair at the base of Brittany's neck and gently pulled her away, their lips tearing apart. Both women were gasping slightly at the sudden intake of oxygen that they had apparently been depriving each other of.

"God I've missed your pouty lips" said Brittany sounding rather breathless, chest heaving against Santana's. She pressed her lips firmly back on Santana's.

"Mhmm" Santana couldn't help but smile back into the kiss. She let it linger for a few seconds before yanking Brittany away again, hand still clutching blonde hair. She had to reassert her dominance; she was Santana Lopez after all. Brittany tried to come back in toward her but again Santana pulled at the back of her hair and gave Brittany her best devious smirk. Santana allowed her to come in close so their noses were nudging and their lips tantalizingly close, it wasn't until Brittany practically whimpered that Santana loosened her vice grip a little and brought her back in, their lips meeting once more.

Santana slowly dipped her tongue back in and then pulled back out just when Brittany was beginning to respond too much with her own. She did this several more times not really knowing why; she guessed she wanted to assert to Brittany that she was in complete control of this situation, despite the nagging voice in the back of her head that was telling her she wasn't. She opened her eyes and could see Brittany give her a frustrated pout.

Santana clenched the back of Brittany's hair again with force and recaptured the dancers lips with her own, Santana with a flirtatious raise of her eyebrow began slowly sucking on Brittany's bottom lip to the point where it turned bright pink, she then bit and tugged at it playfully, eliciting a satiated groan from Brittany. Santana loved being in control, she got her kicks from it and it made her feel a whole lot calmer about the situation. Their tongues soon clashed thereafter and began plummeting back into each other, hands roaming over shoulders, backs and through hair. Running on the high of being in control Santana grabbed both of Brittany suspender straps, pulled them out and let them go with a loud 'snap', they snapped back into place against Brittany's chest and the blonde moaned loudly into Santana's mouth.

Brittany in response began once again grinding ever so slightly down onto the Latina. Santana pulled her head back again breaking their kiss and gazed into the blonde's heavy lidded eyes.

"Behave" she said huskily. Brittany shook her head defiantly and leaned in for another kiss, but Santana stopped her. She'd figure it would come to this. With all her will power and against her better nature; Santana placed a hand on Brittany's upper torso and pushed her gently back, creating a distance between them. Santana almost laughed at how disheveled Brittany looked, and her lips almost looked swollen. Santana's heart began to thud loudly again – Brittany looked cute. _Cute? Really Santana? What are you 15?_

"This was a mistake, I think I ought to drive you home now" said Santana, setting her palms down upon Brittany's thighs. Brittany looked a little hurt, but mostly confused.

"Why? Did you not like it?" asked Brittany; eye's darting between Santana's lips and her eyes. Santana smiled, shaking her head at that suggestion.

"No that's not it, it's just that we've _literally_ just met again after a few years apart and…well…considering how close we were, I just don't think it's appropriate for us to be gettin our mack on, we've changed, or I have…and I mean you're seeing someone too-"

"Open relationship" Brittany interjected.

"Not the point" Santana shot back. "Look, to be honest…" she began to trail, thinking of the best way to put this. She placed a hand over her heart, hoping it would convey as much sincerity to the blonde as possible. "I have a lot going on right now, and like I said, I don't really do relationships. I mean…I'm seriously fucked up, you don't want to even know…you on the other hand Britt…you deserve to be with someone who gives you their full, undivided attention, and I just can't be that person right now, do you understand?" she asked tentatively, she was so out of practice about talking about emotions and her situation that she didn't even know if she was making sense. Brittany nodded slowly and began playing with a silver ring on her finger; Santana recognized it as Brittany's moms. Santana felt the need to clarify more, sensing that Brittany wasn't really satisfied with her answer.

"_I know you_, I know that if we start going down this road, a hug turns into a kiss, which turns into scissoring" Santana said grinning mischievously at Brittany, who briefly smiled playfully back. They fell into a short silence where they were no doubt going over the same memories. Santana reeled away from memories of Brittany's naked body, thoughts that were counter-productive to her current argument as to why she _shouldn't_ be doing this.

"Which turns into…feelings" continued Santana, looking down.

Brittany leaned back casually against the wheel, folded her arms and gave Santana a cynical look.

"What?" blurted out Santana, a little too defensively.

"You're worse than I remember…" Brittany deadpanned. Santana raised her eyebrows. _What does she mean by that? _As if hearing this question Brittany elaborated.

"I dunno Santana…I've always liked your guarded side, I liked helping you come out in high school, I liked helping you deal with your mom, I liked that after years of being friends that you finally started talking about your real feelings, I liked the fact that it made you a better person but I also liked the fact that it made me feel like a better person for helping you." stated Brittany.

Santana blinked, this was all a blast from the past but she was interested where Brittany was going with this so she gulped and didn't interrupt her, not that she could think of anything to say.

"But…" she continued slowly. "It's like you were cagey, and I felt so special for being the only other person privileged enough to be allowed in that cage there with you…and eventually I slowly started chipping away at that cage because I didn't want you to be in there anymore, I wanted everybody else to see how awesome you are…were….everybody else thought you were a bad person but I never. Apart from like...a few rare occasions where you would leave your cage, you mostly stayed inside-"

"What's your point?" interrupted Santana; suddenly feeling like her whole childhood was under a magnifying glass.

"My _point _is…" she began impatiently. "You eventually did leave your cage, OK so you were always going to be a bit of a bitch…and I sort of find that hot" she said as a blush crept to her cheeks. Santana tried her best to ignore that comment.

"But you left your cage behind most days, and now…now…we part for a few years, and suddenly I see you again and I come back to not a cage anymore…but an entire prison, with walls and prison officers and alarms and guard dogs, and it seems like the only hope anyone has of getting in is like by doing a conjugal visit or something" said Brittany shrugging.

Santana's eyebrows rose. Brittany had just more or less insinuated that the only way to get close to Santana nowadays was to get in her pants. Santana thought it was perhaps the most bizarrely accurate analogy anybody had ever used to describe anything. Santana was stunned into silence. She had almost forgotten how deceptively smart Brittany was.

"And it just seems like I have my work cut out for me…again" Brittany said forlornly, placing her hands on top of Santana's. The Latina shook her head and looked into blue eyes that were scanning her.

"It's not your job or duty or moral freakin 'obligation to 'fix' or understand me, okay?" Santana said firmly. Much to Santana's surprise, Brittany laughed at her.

"Oh I understand you perfectly…and I'm pretty sure you can't fix something that isn't broken" she stated, looking into Santana's deep brown eyes. Santana frowned. Why does she always feel like she's playing catch up in conversation?

"Look" Santana started "I'm sorry I shouldn't have did this, I got carried away" she said, brushing Brittany's hands away from her own.

"Well I did sort of jump on you…" admitted Brittany. Santana raised a shoulder and nodded in agreement.

"That too, but I still shouldn't have teased you…how about we start again?" suggested Santana passively, raising her hand, offering Brittany her outstretched pinky. Brittany's eyes lit up at the old gesture and darted between Santana's eyes to her pinky, she eventually clasped her own around the Latina's, giving her a small smile.

"Friends?" asked Santana, trying to clarify where exactly they stood. _Or sat._

Brittany gave Santana a pensive look, and bit her lower lip in thought. She nodded eventually.

"For now…" she added lightly, squeezing her pinky tighter than before. Santana sighed, that was probably the best she was going to get from her.

Brittany scooted back over to the passenger seat and Santana sort of missed the warmth. After several more tries to restart her engine the car finally sprung to life again, Santana made a mental note to get this lump of metal fixed later. The ride back was mostly in an awkward silence; Santana couldn't tell if it was a sexual tension or sad tension in the air, maybe both, she didn't look at Brittany, she feared she'd loose what little control she managed to maintain. Santana neared Brittany's dance studio and slowed near the red lights.

"Where to?" asked Santana, her voice sounding a little hoarse.

"Just up here, 3rd on Williams" said Brittany pointing a little further up toward a street.

"I didn't realize you lived so close to your work…to me…" said Santana nervously.

"Hmprh…don't sound too happy about it" said Brittany flatly.

"Sorry, that came out wrong, I just never realized-"

"It's OK, I know what you meant, I had the same thoughts about you earlier" Brittany cut her off, possibly trying to ease her.

"You did?" asked Santana curiously as she turned into Brittany's street.

"Yeah like what would have happened if I didn't turn up at 'Pulse' and what if we used the same Starbucks, or passed each other on the street without realizing it" said Brittany, her voice faltering a little.

"Well I was planning to join your gym once it was finished, you're place is like 20 bucks cheaper than the one I go to, so we would have met eventually I'm sure" said Santana astutely.

"Maybe then it would have been you shaking your tits in my face and not the other way around" added Santana. Brittany giggled. Santana's heart stopped a beat, the sound of Brittany laughing just did something to her, but she wasn't sure what – either way she was pretty sure it wasn't good for her health.

"I do yoga and stuff…I don't shake my tits at my students" said Brittany still chuckling.

"If that's your sales pitch to me as a potential customer then you really need to work on it." said Santana sarcastically, Brittany slapped her arm. Santana shrugged a shoulder at her.

"I'm just sayin'…" she said honestly.

"There's my flat" said Brittany pointing to an apartment complex, not entirely unlike Santana's. Santana pulled up to the sidewalk and eyed the building; it was almost exactly like Santana's. The buildings around here were all pretty mundane looking.

"So, I guess I'll see you tomorrow, at your work?" asked Brittany unfastening her seatbelt.

Santana frowned, the odd emphasis Brittany put on the word 'work' didn't go unnoticed by her.

"Yeah…just wait outside and I'll get Quinn to meet you there" said Santana slowly, still distracted.

"Looking forward to it" Brittany nodded. Santana had to roll her eyes at that. _I'm sure you are._ Brittany leaned forward over into Santana's side. Seeing Santana's panicked confusion, Brittany spoke.

"Friends are allowed to kiss other friends on the cheek, right?" she asked, smirking. Santana rolled her eyes again. _Heterosexual friends? Sure._ But she didn't object when Brittany grabbed her chin, moved her face to the side slightly and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"Thanks for dinner, I had…an interesting night" whispered the blonde into her ear. Santana shut her eyes and allowed herself to get momentarily lost in the smell of her shampoo, her perfume, just Brittany. Brittany pulled away all too quickly and was now opening the car door. Santana fought the urge to grab her and pull her back in.

"Bye" was all Santana could manage to say. Brittany shut the door, turned back and gave her a coy look. She gave a small wave goodbye once she ran up the steps, and Santana with a last glance at swishing blonde hair saw her enter the building and out of sight. Santana raised a hand to her cheek and traced her fingers over the area where Brittany had kissed, she could still feel the tingly sensation sear across her skin.

"Jesus Christ" exhaled Santana in relief, finally alone in the car. She tried desperately not to replay any of the night's events in her mind. She felt a vibration and realized it was coming from her mobile phone in her pocket. She looked down at the caller ID. '**Q**'. She answered Quinn's out-of-office calls like she always did; they were never one for 'hello?' like normal people.

"Work or social?" she asked, glancing out to the apartment building, looking up trying to guess which level Brittany lived on.

"Both I guess…" came Quinn's voice, she sounded atypically fatigued.

"Sup Q? You sound like you haven't had coffee in weeks" said Santana.

"I'm in no mood for your crap Santana, listen we have a 'target', just the usual grab and tag…they'll be one of your customers at 'Pulse' tomorrow-"

"Hold up" Santana interrupted. "I thought we're done with all the field work, I thought we were done with all of this…all we have to do now is bide our time and wait for Karofsky's go-ahead."

"Can we not talk about this over the phone? Listen, think of it this way – this is just a final nail in the coffin, I mean what harm can more concrete evidence do?"

Santana sighed down the receiver.

"Santana? What aren't you telling me?" came Quinn's voice, Santana could feel her stern concern even when miles apart.

"Am I hearing you right? My shift tomorrow at 'Pulse' is when I'm supposed to be doing this?"

"Yes…why?" asked Quinn, sounding confused. Santana groaned.

"We may already have a problem".


End file.
